


Spring Vacation

by Cosmic_Entity_1of4, GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4)



Series: Brooklyn Heights Books [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Bookstore AU, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boys In Love, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gay Bucky Barnes, Hand Jobs, I'll add more as we go, Light Spanking, M/M, Nerds in Love, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Smut, Steve Likes His Dirty Talk, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Steve Rogers, Unrepentant Fluff, so many feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmic_Entity_1of4/pseuds/Cosmic_Entity_1of4, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmic_Entity_1of4/pseuds/GottaSaveBucky
Summary: Everything was clean and ready; the bed was made up in the second room, fresh towels had been put in the guest bathroom, Steve had even brought some early spring flowers to brighten up the house.Bucky made sure they had plenty of junk food and hot chocolate, Steve just shaking his head fondly and kissing his baby’s cheek.***A guest is coming to visit and Bucky can barely contain his excitement. In the midst of happy times and celebrations, however, there is still something dark hanging over Bucky’s head. Will Bucky be able to face it head-on and finally get away from his past?The next story in theBrooklyn Heights Booksseries.Title and Chapter headings are from "Spring Vacation" by the Beach Boys.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Brooklyn Heights Books [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/916941
Comments: 188
Kudos: 236





	1. Driving Around

**Author's Note:**

> They're back! You've all been waiting so patiently for this story, I can't thank you enough. I have about two-thirds of it written, and the rest of it is outlined.
> 
> Why the delay? Well, long story short, my anti-anxiety meds essentially put me into a stupor for ten months. I slept around 15 hours a day and couldn't find the energy to give a f*ck about anything. But now I'm on new meds, I'm walking seven or eight miles a day, and I feel so much better.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this installment of the series!

Everything was clean and ready; the bed was made up in the second room, fresh towels had been put in the guest bathroom, Steve had even brought some early spring flowers to brighten up the house. The kitchen was well stocked with plenty of food and drink if they wanted to cook at home, and they had phone numbers of nearby restaurants if they wanted to go out or have something delivered. They had also made preliminary arrangements for some fun activities, weather and mood permitting.

It was still bitterly cold out; the tail end of winter was proving to be far nastier than the beginning had been—but thankfully only one day of snow and no major storms were expected that week—so there were warm blankets in all the rooms, perfect for snuggling in during hours of long talks and movie watching. Bucky made sure they had plenty of junk food and hot chocolate, Steve just shaking his head fondly and kissing his baby’s cheek.

Steve had made reservations for them at _Il Rosso_ for one evening, and Bucky had smiled, remembering their first “official” date at the wonderful Italian restaurant. It was hard to believe that it had been more than six months since that first evening, both of them so nervous and excited. So much had happened during that relatively short period of time—some good, some bad—but rather than be torn apart by it, they had grown extremely close, sharing things that Bucky, honestly, had thought he’d never be able to admit to another living soul.

He’d moved in with Steve two months earlier, and the older man had gone above and beyond to make sure Bucky viewed the apartment as ‘theirs,’ and not just ‘Steve’s.’ He’d added Bucky’s name to all of the utilities and, with his permission, had gotten the paperwork to add Bucky to his insurance as his domestic partner. “I can file everything once you’ve lived here for six months,” he said with a wide and happy grin as he marked the day on the calendar.

Bucky’s family pictures—what he had, anyway—were on the walls right next to Steve’s pictures of his mother, and Bucky’s favorite books and knick-knacks were scattered about, making themselves comfortable on shelves and side tables. When Bucky had assured him that it wasn’t necessary to clutter the space up with his things, Steve had disagreed. “I _want_ to see your things here, with mine,” he said. “I want to know, when I look around _our_ home, that you live here just as much as I do.”

Bucky continued going to therapy every week, talking to Doctor Banner more easily now that he’d been seeing him for a couple of months, and he’d finally begun to view things from his past in a different light. Granted, it still hurt that his father had kicked him out, and that his mother hadn’t fought for him, but Bucky was beginning to understand that it wasn’t his fault. These were their shortcomings, not his.

All those times that Steve or Nat or Clint—or Pete or Nick, or any of his other friends, for that matter—had told him that he was a good, kind, lovable person, that he wasn’t broken or messed up, they weren’t just saying these things to make him feel better—they were saying it because they absolutely believed it to be true. And why wouldn’t it be true? Because someone else couldn’t accept him as he was? Bucky was not responsible for his parents’ choices, and he was not to blame for their actions, and he was finally starting to make peace with it.

The last month, though, had put his newly found and hard-won tentative inner peace to the test.

His sister, Becca, was coming to New York for Spring Break, and Bucky was so excited; the fact that her time off coincided with his twenty-seventh birthday made it even more special. It had been almost three years since they had last seen each other; Bucky had managed to fly back to Indiana for her high school graduation, but wasn’t able to spend much time with her at all. Their father had overheard Becca telling a friend how thrilled she was to see Bucky and, as a result, had monitored her every move, not wanting them to have any meaningful time together.

It had broken Bucky’s heart that his own sister had been forced to sneak around just to see him for a handful of minutes, and he’d come back to New York depressed and upset. Less than a year after that he’d met and eventually started dating Brock Rumlow, an abusive and controlling all-around bastard. He’d stayed in that toxic relationship for more than eight months, until a particularly awful and traumatizing experience sent Bucky packing—literally. He’d moved in with Nat and Clint, at their insistence, in hopes that Brock wouldn’t find him. Getting away from Rumlow hadn’t been easy, though; without Steve, Bucky wasn’t sure he would have come out of it in one piece, and they were still dealing with the fallout.

When Bucky had invited Becca to New York, she had been ecstatic. “I would love to! Oh, Bucky, I can’t wait to see you!” she’d said. When Bucky had asked her what she was going to tell their parents, she’d said, “I’m going to tell them the truth. If they don’t like it, that’s their problem.” Bucky had almost cried.

And, sure enough, their father wasn’t happy about it. “He’s been expressing his disapproval for the idea very vocally,” Becca said, and Bucky could hear the dry sense of humor they both shared in her voice. When he asked about their mother, Becca sighed. “She’s not saying much, as usual.” She snickered then. “He’s threatened to stop paying for my cell phone, which is hilarious, since I only use it to call them now,” she said, which made Bucky chuckle. He and Steve had sent her a StarkPhone for Christmas the year before, complete with the StarkTech ‘Friends and Family Plan’ (i.e., unlimited everything, of course) so that she could talk to Bucky whenever she wanted without them knowing.

“He’s also threatened to cut me off financially, to stop paying for school,” she said, which Bucky did not laugh at. When he said as much, that he didn’t want her risking her future to come see him, she argued, “Bucky, I’m going to be twenty-one soon, he can cut me off anytime he wants to. I don’t care. I’ve told him if he does, I’m transferring to NYU to finish my degree. I’ve got all of the student loan paperwork filled out and ready to go. I’ve made it clear to him that you are my brother, that I love you and always will, and nothing he says or does is ever going to change that. So maybe start looking for a cheap apartment close to campus for me, yeah?”

Bucky _had_ cried at that; Steve was there, to hold him and kiss him and dry his tears, because of course he was.

***

Today was the day, Friday, March ninth. Becca was leaving for the airport right after her last class at ISU and catching a late afternoon flight from Indianapolis International Airport to LaGuardia in New York, landing at just before seven-thirty in the evening.

Bucky had worked a half-day at the bookstore, picked up some last-minute groceries, wanting to make sure everything was ready at home, and had taken the following week off to spend with his sister. Nick was thrilled for him; he’d known Bucky for almost eight years, and this was the first time anyone in his family was coming to visit. “Make sure you bring her by to meet us, got it, son? And have a great birthday,” he said to Bucky, clapping him on the shoulder when he left Friday afternoon.

“Got it, Nick, thank you,” Bucky smiled, so excited to see Becca that he could barely stand still.

Steve got home from work at about five-thirty, same as always, and they had a quick dinner together while Bucky checked his sister’s flight status. “Everything’s on time,” he grinned, practically bouncing in his seat. The flight was only about two hours and ten minutes, and it would take them thirty minutes or so to drive to the airport.

They left at six-fifteen for LaGuardia, wanting to leave plenty of time for traffic and to find parking in the short-term lot. By the time they reached the Arrivals terminal, they still had about ten minutes before the flight was due to land. Bucky paced and fidgeted while Steve watched him affectionately as he checked the arrival board every minute or so. When the plane landed, he squealed happily. “She’s here! Oh my god, I can’t believe she’s here!”

It was another fifteen minutes before the passengers began to come through the terminal on their way to baggage claim. The second Becca came through the gate, Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand. “There she is,” he gasped. It was impossible not to recognize her, even if he hadn’t seen her on FaceTime; she was a slightly shorter and thinner female version of Bucky, with longer hair. Their matching blue-grey eyes locked and identical smiles broke out across their faces as she rushed over, dropping her carry-on luggage, Bucky meeting her halfway and sweeping her into his arms.

He spun her around, the both of them laughing and crying, paying no mind to the crowd of people moving around them. “God, Becca, I can’t believe you’re really here,” Bucky said, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back a bit to look at her. “You look so beautiful!” he whispered, tucking her dark, wavy hair behind her ears.

“’Course I do, I look just like you,” she laughed, hugging him tight. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him. “I brought a surprise for you,” she said excitedly.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky laughed. “What’s that? Some of that crazy Indiana popcorn? I hope it’s the black and white.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head with a nervous smile. “It’s, um….”

“Hello, Bucky.”

Bucky looked up, over Becca’s shoulder, at the small, dark-haired woman standing about ten feet away, who was looking at the two of them with a tremulous smile and her own teary, blue-grey eyes. Bucky’s jaw dropped and his eyes popped open wide in shock.

“ _Mom?_ ”

***

Bucky was stunned literally speechless. He stood there, blinking at the woman he’d last seen more than eight years earlier as a cab took him away from his childhood home, never to return. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again, and yet, here she was, looking at him anxiously.

Her hair was shorter, and a little grayer; she looked older, and a little more worn. All of these things were to be expected, but there was something else there, too; there was a strength and resolve in her eyes that Bucky didn’t recall ever seeing before.

“Mom?” he said again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What—I mean—how—why—“ he stammered, shaking himself.

“I needed to see my son,” she said quietly, taking the last few steps toward where he and his sister still stood arm-in-arm. Steve had moved slightly closer, ready to support Bucky if he needed it.

“You came to see me?” Bucky asked, and Steve could hear that he was very close to breaking down in tears.

Bucky wasn’t the only one. Becca was already sniffling and wiping under her eyes, and as their mother reached out with a shaky hand to cup Bucky’s cheek, she nodded. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, for everything. I can’t even begin to—“

She was cut off when Bucky threw his arms around her, hugging her tight. “It’s good to see you, Mom,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I’ve missed you.”

***

After a minute or so, Steve stepped forward, putting a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The brunet looked over at him, smiling widely, even with the tears gathering on his eyelashes, one or two escaping to trace a line over his cheek. “Hey, Stevie,” he said, chuckling, “don’t suppose you have any tissues?”

Steve smiled at his love, taking two small packets out of his jacket pocket and handing them over to him. “You know I do.”

“I think we might need them all,” he laughed, drying his eyes and taking a small step back from his mother. “Steve, this is my sister, Rebecca, and my, um, my mom, Winifred,” he said, still reeling from the shock. “Mom, Becks, this is my boyfriend, Steve Rogers.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you in person,” Becca said warmly, immediately giving Steve a hug. He smiled, returning the gesture, even laughing a little when she said, “Bucky’s right. You do give great hugs.”

“I’m glad to meet you, too,” Steve said, blushing a bit as he turned to Bucky’s mother and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

She smiled and shook his hand while dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “What is this ‘ma’am’ business? Please, call me Freddie.”

“Freddie, then,” Steve said, nodding happily. He slipped his hand into Bucky’s, giving it a squeeze. “Do you have any luggage to collect?”

They made their way through the terminal, and as Freddie and Becca retrieved their bags from the luggage carousel, Steve turned Bucky in his arms and held him close. “Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing his back.

“I’m just…I don’t know what I’m feeling, to tell you the truth,” Bucky said, huffing a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe she’s here.”

“Well, this does raise a logistical question,” Steve said. When Bucky looked up at him, his brow furrowed, Steve explained. “The guest room has one bed.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah.”

“We could offer them the apartment, stay at the Tower?” Steve suggested.

Bucky pursed his lips. “Not really ideal,” he said, “but we’ll ask.” He stood on his tiptoes and kissed his boyfriend softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” Steve replied, smiling down at him.

When his mother and sister returned with their luggage, Steve and Bucky took the larger bags and carried them out to the car. Once they were on their way back to their apartment, Bucky, who was sitting in the back seat with Becca so that his mother could have the front seat, broached the subject. “Steve and I were talking about sleeping arrangements,” he began. “Our guest room has one bed.”

“Didn’t you say the bed was pretty big, though?” Becca asked. She was leaning against Bucky’s right side, hugging his arm with her head on his shoulder, and Steve could see in the rearview mirror that Bucky was happily nudging her occasionally with his cheek, holding her right hand in both of his.

“Yes, it’s a King-size bed,” Steve said, nodding.

“So we’ll double-up,” Becca shrugged. “No problem.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked. “We have another place we can stay if you two would be more comfortable having the apartment to yourselves.”

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart,” Freddie said, turning her head a bit to speak to her children. “Becca doesn’t thrash around like she used to. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay, as long as you’re not worried about getting punched in the face in the middle of the night,” Bucky said, yelping when Becca poked him in the side.

“One time that happened,” she laughed, before sitting up straighter and looking at her brother. “Wait a minute. You two have another apartment? Did you not give yours up?”

“I didn’t have an apartment,” Bucky said. “Just before I finished my master’s degree I moved into my friends’ guest room. I was there for about a year before moving in with Steve.”

Bucky didn’t elaborate, but Steve knew that he had left the off-campus housing before finishing school in an attempt to get away from Brock. Steve was fairly certain that his sister didn’t know the whole story of what Bucky went through—and his mother probably didn’t know any of it—and it wasn’t his place to say, so he steered the subject away.

“My friend Tony owns a building in the city, and he has rooms set aside for his friends to stay if they need it,” Steve said, explaining in the most general way possible.

“That’s handy,” Becca said, quirking an eyebrow.

“It can be,” Bucky agreed.

They arrived at home, Steve and Bucky carried the heavier bags inside, and they introduced Freddie and Becca to Mister Davis, the doorman. “They’ll be staying with us all week,” Steve said, smiling, as Mister Davis jotted down their information.

“Welcome to New York, Missus Barnes, Miss Barnes,” Mister Davis said happily, handing them back their identification. “If I’m not here, Mister DeMarr, the morning doorman, will check your IDs against the log, but otherwise, come and go as you please.”

They thanked him and headed upstairs in the elevator, getting out on their floor. Steve unlocked the door, went in and turned on the lights. “Come on in,” he said, welcoming his boyfriend’s family into their home.

“Oh, this is lovely,” Freddie said, walking into the living room.

“Seriously, guys, this is really nice,” Becca said, wandering in and looking around, taking in the warm colors and welcoming environment. “That kitchen is gorgeous.”

“This is all Steve,” Bucky smiled. “It looked like this when I got here.”

“It was nice before you moved in,” Steve said, looking at Bucky fondly. “Now it feels like a home.”

“Aww,” Becca said, smiling at the two men. “That’s so sweet.”

“He is,” Bucky grinned. “Just a big teddy bear.”

They took the suitcases into the guest room then, also showing the women the guest bath. “Laundry is in here,” Steve said, opening a closet door, “if you need to wash anything, feel free.” He pointed down the hallway. “Our room is in there, and there’s another bathroom in there as well.”

After the travelers freshened up, everybody gathered in the living room. Steve got drinks for everyone and asked if they were hungry. “We had some dinner on the plane,” Becca said, taking a sip of her beer. “It wasn’t awful.”

“High praise, indeed,” Bucky joked. He sat on the sofa with Steve, leaning back against his boyfriend’s side, with Steve’s arm behind him, resting on the back of the couch cushions. Steve occasionally ran his hand over Bucky’s left arm or leaned forward to nuzzle against Bucky’s hair.

Bucky’s mother sat carefully at the other end of the sofa, her hands folded in her lap and her ankles crossed. Becca was sprawled over one of the armchairs, already completely comfortable.

“So, Mom,” Bucky said, reaching for Steve’s hand and entwining their fingers, “I have to ask. I’m sure Dad wasn’t thrilled about you coming here—how did you talk him into it?”

Freddie looked at the floor for a moment, and then looked at Becca, who grinned, and then took a sip of white wine before answering. “Well,” she said, chuckling a little bit, “I didn’t exactly tell him I was going.”

“What?” Bucky blurted out, astonishment clear on his face. “He doesn’t know?”

“I’m sure he knows _now,_ ” she replied, giving a half-shrug. “I left a note, telling him that I was going to New York with Becca and that I’d be back in a week.”

“But—but—“ Bucky stammered, not knowing where to even start.

“Mom went rogue,” Becca chimed in, smirking.

“This was something I needed to do, and I knew there was no point in arguing with him about it.” She paused for a moment, sighing. “Your father has made a lot of decisions that I haven’t agreed with,” Freddie said, looking at Bucky sadly. “I’ll never forgive myself for not standing up to him when he said what he did to you.”

“You mean, the whole ‘you’re a pervert and I want you out of my house’ thing?” Bucky asked wryly. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky, hugging him around his shoulders.

His mother nodded, looking ashamed. “I’ve never shared his opinion about that. He was raised in a very conservative household, and he took those teachings to heart.” She met Bucky’s eyes. “My parents were more open-minded for the times. It was never talked about openly, of course, but I’m fairly certain my father’s youngest sister had a lady friend.”

“Great-Aunt Ida?” Becca asked, surprised.

Freddie nodded. “It was something of an open secret. Accepted, but never discussed. The point being,” she said, looking to her son, “was that they loved her just as she was, and never made her feel that she was bad, or wrong, or anything like that. And I’ve never thought that about you, Bucky, not ever.”

Bucky inhaled slowly, nodding his head a little jerkily, not trusting his voice to speak yet. Becca, though, had no such problems. “Then why let him speak for you?” she asked, confused. She sat up in the armchair and turned to fully face her mother. “He lied to me for years about why Bucky never came home. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I don’t have any excuses,” Freddie said, “other than to say that even when things were unpleasant, I knew they could always get worse, and openly disagreeing with your father is pretty much asking for it to get worse.”

“Mom,” Bucky said quietly, his eyes bright with unshed tears, “does Dad—“

“He has never laid a hand on me,” his mother interrupted, holding up a calming hand and shaking her head.

“Abuse can take a lot of different forms, Mom,” Bucky said. “Emotional and mental abuse can be even worse than physical abuse. Believe me, I’m kind of an expert.” Behind him, Steve snuggled close, wrapping both arms around him.

“I know, honey, and I am so, so sorry for how he treated you, and that I never said anything.” She took a deep breath then. “But that is over now. I refuse to let this continue.”

“What are you going to do?” Becca asked, reaching over to take her mother’s hand.

“I’m going to do what I should have done in the very beginning,” she said, “and make it clear to him that I love my children— _both_ of my children—unconditionally, and that I will not spend another day in a house where _both_ of my children are not loved and welcome.”

***

Following that bombshell, Bucky needed another drink; in fact, everyone had another drink. Steve insisted on making chicken quesadillas, saying, “No one is waking up on Bucky’s birthday with a hangover.”

They all sat around the kitchen table, eating and drinking and talking and laughing, until close to eleven o’clock, when Freddie announced that she needed to turn in. “Don’t let me stop your fun,” she said, getting up from the table. “Stay up as long as you want.”

“I think we’ll all be turning in pretty soon,” Steve said, smiling at Bucky when he pouted in his direction. “After all, tomorrow’s a big day.”

“I’m twenty-seven, not one hundred,” Bucky snorted. “This isn’t exactly a huge milestone.”

“I’ve missed so much,” Freddie said, shaking her head sadly. “You’ve done so many wonderful things, and I’ve missed them.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Mom,” Bucky said, coming around the table to hug her. “There’ve been a couple of graduation ceremonies, that’s it. If you really want to see me walk across a stage for thirty seconds, Nat recorded them for me.”

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” she whispered, looking up at him. She reached up to brush his hair out of his face. “You’ve gotten taller,” she said, laughing a little shakily, “and even more handsome. You need a haircut, though.”

“Hands off my hair, Ma,” Bucky laughed, playfully swatting her hand away. “Steve likes my hair long.”

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, giving him another squeeze before stepping back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“G’night, Mom,” Bucky said. “G’night, Becks.”

“’Night, Bucky-nan,” Becca said, snorting when Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. “You are really not scary at all, big bro.”

“Shut it,” he growled good-naturedly, waving as she followed her mother out of the kitchen and down the hall. He turned then to Steve, who was rinsing off a few dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. Coming up behind him, he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Tired, big guy?”

“Not too tired,” Steve said, smiling over his shoulder as he dried his hands and hung up the dishtowel. He turned and leaned against the counter, his arms loosely around Bucky’s midsection, gently pulling him in to stand between his feet. “How ‘bout you?”

“Physically and emotionally? Exhausted. Mentally? I feel wired,” Bucky sighed, leaning forward and resting his forehead on Steve’s chest. “My brain’s going a bazillion miles an hour.”

“Let’s go get ready for bed, and once we’re all snuggled together and comfortable, you can tell me everything that you’re thinking about,” Steve said softly, kissing Bucky’s head. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds like every reason why I love you,” Bucky murmured, closing his eyes for a few seconds and just breathing, letting Steve’s presence soothe him.

Steve held him for a minute or so, slowly rubbing his back, until Bucky straightened up and said, “Yeah. Jammies, bed, more back rubs.”

Steve chuckled. “Anything for you, baby.”

***

Steve padded out barefoot to the kitchen the next morning, thinking he would be the first one up, only to find Freddie looking at the coffee machine in confusion. “Good morning,” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

“Oh, good morning,” she said cheerfully. “I’m afraid I have no idea where to begin with this coffee maker. It looks very complicated.”

Steve smiled. “That was a house-warming gift from Clint and Natasha, Bucky’s friends. Clint makes the best coffee I’ve ever had.” He pulled a canister of ground coffee from the shelf, along with a box of filters. “He gave us lessons on how to use this beast.”

Within a few minutes, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee was filling the room, and Steve had poured Freddie and himself each a cup. Steve retrieved cream and sugar for her, and they sat at the island together, drinking quietly.

“This _is_ excellent,” Freddie said after taking a sip. “My goodness.”

“Clint is very serious about his coffee,” Steve grinned. Setting his cup down, he asked, “Did you sleep all right? Is the bed comfortable enough?”

“It’s absolutely fine, Steve, thank you,” she replied. Tilting her head a little, she asked, “How is Bucky? I can’t imagine the shock this must have been for him.”

“He’s thrilled you’re here,” Steve said with a little smile, “but yes, he was shocked.” Taking another sip of coffee, he continued. “We talked for a long time last night, just so he could get everything he was thinking out of his head.” He looked at her carefully. “He’s worried about you.”

“He shouldn’t be,” she said, shaking her head.

“He is, though,” Steve said. “Even the thought that you’ve been mistreated somehow kept him awake for a while.”

Freddie sighed. “He was always such a sweet and thoughtful boy.”

“He still is,” Steve smiled in response. Just as he was about to say more, the sweet boy in question shuffled into the kitchen. Sleepy-eyed, mussed hair, clad in a short-sleeved shirt, flannel pajama pants, and fluffy slippers, Bucky made his way over to his boyfriend.

“Stevie,” he whined playfully, draping himself over Steve’s back, “I thought you were going to bring me coffee.” He pressed his face against the back of Steve’s neck, his arms hanging over the blond’s shoulders. Steve gently held his arms in place and kissed the inside of Bucky’s left elbow.

“I didn’t think you were awake yet, love,” Steve said, smiling at Bucky’s antics. “If you want to get back in bed, I’ll bring you a cup.”

“Too late, I’m up,” he mumbled against the bigger man’s skin. Nuzzling into Steve’s hair and taking a deep breath, he sighed contentedly. “Mmm, so minty.”

“James Buchanan,” Freddie said, and Bucky’s eyes popped open, his head snapping up in surprise at the tone of her voice, “what is _that?_ ”

He followed her line of sight, and realized that she was staring at his left arm, where his tattoo was showing from under the short sleeve of his t-shirt. Dropping his head back down onto Steve’s shoulder, he said tiredly, “It’s a tattoo, Mom.”

“Well, I can see that, smarty pants,” she said sarcastically. “It just looks awfully…large.”

“It’s pretty big,” Bucky agreed, pulling his sleeve up so she could see most of it. “It covers all the scar tissue, anyway.”

“How is your shoulder doing?” she asked, reaching out carefully to lay a hand on his upper arm. “Your muscle tone looks good.”

“It’s not bad, considering,” Bucky said, shrugging a bit. “I’m pretty consistent with my strength training, and I still wear the support strap when I run. I do yoga, too, to stay flexible. It’s normally a little tight in the mornings, but it’s nothing terrible.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” she smiled, clearly pleased that he had taken care of himself.

“Holy crap, Bucky!” a feminine voice cried out. “That is awesome!”

Becca came into the kitchen and her eyes zeroed in on the silver interlocking plates and the red star that were inked into her brother’s skin. Steve turned on his barstool and settled Bucky between his legs, rubbing his lower back as his mother and sister looked over every inch of the tattoo.

“What do you think of his tattoo, Steve?” Freddie asked.

“I think it’s gorgeous, just like the rest of him,” Steve smiled, kissing Bucky’s cheek. “Most importantly, it makes Bucky happy, and I love anything that makes him happy.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and blushed brightly then, grinning from ear-to-ear. A murmured “ _Sheesh,_ ya big sap,” was barely audible as he buried his red face in Steve’s throat.

Becca stopped and stared at Steve. “Where do I find another one of you? Do you have any brothers?”

“Nope,” Steve smiled sheepishly. “Only child, it was just me and my mom when I was growing up over in Vinegar Hill.”

“Will I get to meet her while I’m here?” Freddie asked, taking her coffee away from Becca, who whined at her.

Steve’s smile fell a bit as Bucky wrapped his arms around him. “Um, no, unfortunately. She passed away not long after I turned eighteen. Cancer.”

“Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Freddie said, looking absolutely heartbroken for him. “What about your father?”

“He was killed in a military training accident before I was born,” he shrugged. “I never knew him.”

“So you’ve been on your own since you were eighteen?” Freddie asked sadly.

Steve nudged Bucky back and stood up. “Let me get you some coffee, baby,” he said quietly, before continuing. “It’s okay, really. It’s been fifteen years, and I was lucky enough that my mom planned well and that I have some amazing friends who helped me keep it together.” He took two coffee cups down from the cupboard and started pouring. He handed the first cup to Becca, who sighed happily as she thanked him.

“There are some pictures of her in the front room,” Bucky said, “along with a beautiful portrait that Steve did of her.” He accepted the coffee from Steve and took a sip. “Mmm, thank you, Stevie.” He spoke to his mother again. “You can see from the pictures where Steve got his blond hair and big blue eyes. She was lovely.”

“I’m sure she was, to have raised such a wonderful son,” Freddie smiled at Steve as he stood behind Bucky, who had taken his seat at the kitchen island.

“Thank you,” he blushed, leaning over Bucky to pick up his own, now empty coffee cup. “And now, what would the birthday boy like for breakfast?” he asked, the expression on his face indicating that he already knew what the answer was going to be.

“It’s my birthday!” Bucky said, a huge grin on his face. “I want blueberry-bacon waffles!”

“Excuse me?” Becca said, looking dubious at his selection.

“Seriously, you need to try these. They’re so good!” Bucky insisted. “I even picked up fresh bacon crumbles from Vinnie yesterday when I left work.”

“Who’s Vinnie?” Becca asked, taking her and her mother’s coffee cups to the machine for a refill.

“He owns the Italian deli a couple of blocks down from the bookstore,” Bucky explained. “Best deli in New York, as far as I’m concerned.”

As they prepared breakfast, Bucky told them about the bookstore and the various people there and about. When they finally pushed away from the table, too full to take another bite, Becca said, “Okay, you were right about the blueberry-bacon waffles. Those were unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Bucky grinned, rubbing his stomach. He smiled at his boyfriend. “You’re so good to me, Stevie.”

“Only ‘cause I love you,” Steve said, chuckling, as he stood from the table and started gathering dishes. He kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “Why don’t you shower while I clean up in here?”

“Do you always spoil him like this?” Freddie asked, shaking her head as she fought back a smile.

“Yes,” Bucky said, at the same time Steve said, “No.” Steve narrowed his eyes playfully at the brunet, who giggled at him in return. “I just know that his hair is going to take forever, so he needs to get started on it if we’re going to get out of here before lunchtime,” Steve said, laughing at Bucky’s offended expression.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “You love my hair.” He brought some more dishes to the sink, where Steve was rinsing, and kissed him on the cheek.

“’Course I do, baby,” Steve murmured. “And everything underneath it.”

“Mmm, I love you, too,” Bucky hummed happily, giving him a quick squeeze. “Okay, I’m showering.”

“Me, too,” Becca said, heading off to grab her toiletry bag.

Steve and Freddie shared a look. “Any bets on who’ll take longer?” Freddie asked, smirking.

“No,” Steve said emphatically, laughing and shaking his head as he dried a mixing bowl and put it away. “Bucky is very serious about his hair and he will _not_ be rushed.”

“I guess some things never change,” Freddie laughed, rinsing out her coffee cup and putting it in the dishwasher.

“I certainly wouldn’t change anything about him,” Steve said with a grin, as he hung up his dishtowel. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Freddie looked at him, searching his eyes. “You really mean that, don’t you?” she asked, smiling.

Steve blushed the tiniest bit. “With all my heart.”

***

Bundling up against the chill, the quartet made their way to the city for one of Bucky’s guilty pleasures—the Macy’s flower show. He loved the oddness of it; the strange tableaus and magical scenes created out of flowers and whatever the theme happened to be that year. This year’s theme was carnivals, and Bucky oohed and aahed at the carousel horses, Ferris wheels, games, and concession stands completely decked out in springtime blossoms.

Steve, of course, loved the creativity and color, taking pictures of the things that struck him as particularly interesting, also getting some lovely shots of Bucky with his mom and sister amongst the blooms. “I get a lot of ideas from unusual things,” he explained to Freddie and Becca. “Seeing our everyday surroundings transformed into something new and different gets my brain working.”

Freddie had been stunned to learn that Steve was the creator, writer, and artist of the _Captain America_ comic book series that she had seen her son go bananas over more than ten years earlier. “You must have been so young!” she exclaimed.

“Looking back on it,” Steve said, smiling a little sheepishly, “it does seem like an insane thing to have done, but I’ve pretty much always been surrounded by people who believed in me and supported me. It made all the difference.”

They went to Rowland’s Bar & Grill for a late lunch, enjoying a delicious meal and a couple of drinks. “If I tell them it’s your birthday, will they sing?” Becca asked, grinning evilly.

“If you do, I’m leaving,” Bucky said, laughing.

“Maybe they’ll bring us cake,” she said, her eyes lighting up.

“So the sweet-tooth is a Barnes family trait?” Steve asked, taking a sip of his drink.

All three members of the Barnes family nodded emphatically. “I’ll need to take you two around to meet Nat,” Bucky said. “She runs a pastry business out of her house. She’s incredibly talented.”

After lunch, they took a cab to Central Park. Even though it was cold and a little cloudy, it wasn’t freezing or icy, so they took a nice stroll for an hour or so before Steve guided them casually across the street onto Fifth Avenue as the sun set and all the lights came on. “Where are we going, Stevie?” Bucky asked, his eyes narrowed a little suspiciously.

“Just wandering, Buck,” he replied, doing a terrible job of looking nonchalant. The smile he was desperately trying to hide was threatening to break free at any moment.

“What did you do?” Bucky asked, laughing at how red Steve’s face was getting.

Steve finally shook his head and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Okay, ya little brat, come with me.” He looked over at the two women who were watching them with amused expressions. “Stay close, ladies.”

The group walked into the lobby of a building that Bucky was now quite familiar with, and, after waving to several familiar security guards, headed to a wall of elevators. Steve led them immediately to a set of doors at the end marked ‘Private’; he scanned a card from his pocket past a reader and then pressed the ‘up’ button.

“Why are we here?” Becca asked, confused.

Steve didn’t answer. He just smiled as the elevator doors opened and he ushered everyone inside.

“Good evening, Mister Rogers,” JARVIS greeted them as the doors shut and the elevator car started to rise.

“Hi, JARVIS,” Steve replied, as Becca and Freddie looked up in surprise.

“Good evening, Mister Barnes, and may I say, ‘Happy Birthday.’”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Bucky said, grinning. “Can you tell me what’s going on tonight?”

“I am not allowed to divulge any information regarding tonight’s planned festivities,” JARVIS responded. “Nor am I allowed to confirm whether or not there are, indeed, festivities planned for this evening.”

“Didn’t you just confirm that there are festivities by telling me that you couldn’t tell me what they were?” Bucky asked, laughing. He had grown to love JARVIS—how an A.I. could have such a dry sense of humor never ceased to amaze him.

“Oh, dear,” JARVIS said, sounding entirely undistressed, and Bucky actually snorted. “You have outwitted me once again. I have spilled the beans.”

“JARVIS!” Steve yelled in exasperation.

“My apologies, Mister Rogers,” JARVIS said, “but Mister Barnes and I have an agreement that I will not tell him untruths if he is able to guess the correct answer.”

Steve looked at Bucky with playfully narrowed eyes, and Bucky just grinned cheekily in response. “How are we ever going to plan a surprise for him, then?” Steve asked, still looking at Bucky.

“By not getting me involved,” JARVIS replied flatly, and Bucky burst out laughing.

Steve just shook his head, chuckling. “You’re awful. Both of you.” When he had collected himself, he said, “JARVIS, please add Miss Rebecca Barnes and Missus Winifred Barnes to the list of guests who can access our floor, please.”

“Certainly, Mister Rogers. Welcome to Stark Tower, Missus Barnes, Miss Barnes,” the A.I. said, just as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.


	2. Living the Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Bucky! :D
> 
> If you've read "It's My Party and I'll (Bleep) If I Want To," this chapter wraps around that one-shot; in other words, this is the party Bucky and Steve snuck away from. ;)
> 
> If you haven't read it, it's not required reading for this chapter--feel free to read it after. XD
> 
> I hope you enjoy our birthday boy's party! (*3*)

When the elevator doors opened on Tony’s floor, Bucky couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Oh, for the love of—“ Steve muttered before yelling, “Tony!”

Before he could say any more, they were being greeted by all of Bucky’s closest friends—Pete and Mora, Nat and Clint, Nick, Wanda, Pietro, and Scott, as well as Sam and Maria, Peggy, Tony and Pepper, Steve’s assistant, Peter, Darcy, even Phil Coulson, and quite a few others from the bookstore and SHIELD who were all there to wish Bucky a happy birthday.

“Isn’t it great?” Pete said, the grin on his face stretching from ear-to-ear. “Tony asked me what your favorite thing in the whole world is. I was more than happy to help.”

“You are such an ass, Pete,” Bucky laughed in delight. “But you’re not wrong.”

Every square foot of the large, open, chrome-and-glass modern space was decorated with pictures of Steve’s smiling face; cardboard cutouts, balloons, plates, cups, napkins, even (Bucky discovered later) the M&Ms had Steve’s face on them. There was a game of “Pin the ‘Stache on the Steve” set up along one wall, and a beanbag toss where the target was Steve’s open mouth.

“Of course, now that I think about it,” Pete said, adopting a thoughtful expression, “maybe we picked the wrong part of Steve’s anatomy.”

“Pete!” Bucky shouted, red-faced, listening to Becca snicker behind him as he smacked Pete repeatedly. Freddie coughed behind her hand, and Bucky just knew she was hiding a smile and trying not to laugh.

“Buckles,” Pete said, the huge grin on his face getting bigger somehow, even as he put his arms up to defend himself. “Is this your sister?”

“Yes, Pete,” Bucky said, smacking him again. “And guess what?” he asked, tilting his head toward the older woman behind him. “This ( _smack_ ) is ( _smack_ ) my ( _smackitty-smack-smack_ ) mother!”

Pete did one of those slow-motion gasps, the kind that take fifteen seconds and inflate your chest to twice its normal size. _“No. Way,”_ he whisper-shouted as he exhaled, his eyes huge.

“Yes. Way,” Bucky laughed. “So maybe no dirty jokes in front of her, either, please.”

“Seriously, Bucky?” Freddie smirked, arching an unimpressed eyebrow in his direction. “I’m pretty sure very little could shock me at this point in my life.”

“I refuse to let Pete put that to the test,” Bucky smiled.

“Mama Barnes,” Pete said, almost reverently, stepping up and delicately hugging the tiny brunette woman. “Thank you _so much_ for giving us this beautiful man. He is an absolute damn treasure.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “Please call me Freddie.”

Bucky introduced Pete to Becca, and then Pete grabbed Mora and introduced her to Bucky’s family.

“This was so sweet of you,” Bucky said to Steve, standing on his toes to give the big blond a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

“This was not what I had in mind for your birthday party.” Steve was bright red, but also clearly trying to hold in his laughter as he looked around, shaking his head and mumbling, “This is horrifying.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Oh, no, Stevie, this is _amazing,_ ” he smiled, looking about the room. “I want to keep all of it.”

“And put it where?” Steve asked, laughing loudly.

“ _Everywhere,_ ” Bucky breathed, extending his arm in a sweeping gesture, encompassing the whole room. “Our apartment, the bookstore, your office, the suite downstairs—“

“What? What suite downstairs?” Becca asked, confused.

“Remember we told you that Steve’s friend Tony owned a building in the city and had set aside a room for Steve to use whenever he needed it?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Becca said, her eyes getting wider.

“Well,” Bucky shrugged, “it’s downstairs.”

“Bucky,” Becca whispered, “this is Stark Tower.”

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky nodded.

“His friend Tony is Tony Stark?” Becca asked, her eyes getting bigger by the second.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, smiling, bewildered by her stunned expression. “Whose apartment did you think you were in right now?”

“Oh. My. God.” She looked around. “I’m in Tony Stark’s apartment. Right now.”

“Yes, you are,” the man in question said as he strolled up to them, Pepper at his side. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” Tony said, hugging Bucky fondly and kissing him loudly on the cheek. “Steve,” he grinned obnoxiously, as he shook the blond’s hand, “how do you like the décor?”

“I hate you,” Steve said flatly, but the corners of his lips kept creeping up as he fought the smile that was trying to break free.

Tony snickered. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages. The printers had a blast.” He and Pete bumped fists.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Happy birthday, Bucky,” she said, hugging him. “I’m sorry about the decorations. Tony and Pete should never be allowed to have play dates ever again.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, laughing. “And please, don’t apologize. This is, no lie, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He turned a bit then and said, “Tony, Pepper, I’d like you to meet my sister, Rebecca, and my mom, Winifred. Mom, Becks, this is Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”

“I was assuming from the striking familial resemblance that you were all somehow related,” Tony said after greeting them and shaking their hands. “Let’s get you some drinks.”

“I think I need one,” Becca said, rolling her eyes at her mother’s raised eyebrow. “I’m going to be twenty-one in less than three months, Mom. I think I can handle a drink.”

“Of course, you can,” Tony said, grinning. “You’re not driving anywhere tonight, and we’re all family here.” Behind Becca’s back, to Freddie, he held his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart, indicating that he would use _very_ little actual alcohol. She smiled, nodding in response.

Bucky took the opportunity to introduce his mother and sister to the rest of his coworkers from the bookstore, as they had known Bucky the longest—and knew best of his less-than-wonderful relationship with his parents. Needless to say, they were surprised—to put it lightly—that his mother had come for a visit. Seeing Bucky with his arm around her shoulder, though, and hearing Freddie say how she “refused to let one more day go by without seeing him” seemed to be all the explanation they needed.

Nick was beyond thrilled that she had come to New York. He and Freddie chatted for quite a while, during which Nick embarrassed Bucky repeatedly by saying how he couldn’t have gotten by without Bucky over the past few years. “He’s a wonderful young man, with a good head on his shoulders,” Nick said. “And since he met _this_ guy,” he continued, pointing his thumb at one of the giant cardboard cutouts of Steve, “I’ve never seen him happier.”

The one person Bucky was a little scared of introducing his mother to was Nat. Nat had seen him at pretty much all of his lowest moments over the last eight years, and she had a definite opinion of the way his parents had treated him. Stepping away from his mother’s side for a moment as she continued talking to Nick, he approached Nat and Clint. The set of her jaw was not a good sign.

“Nat,” Bucky said, approaching her carefully, “I know what you’re thinking, but my mom and I talked a lot last night; she’s been under my dad’s thumb this whole time. Breaking away from that and coming to see me against his wishes is a good thing. For her, for Becca, and for me.”

Nat’s expression immediately changed from mistrusting to concerned. “He wouldn’t let her see you?”

“My father barely let her talk to me on the phone if he was around,” Bucky said sadly. “She didn’t even tell him to his face that she was coming here with Becca. She left him a note.”

Nat reached over and took his hand in hers. “You’ll tell us if she needs help?” she asked softly.

“Pretty sure Steve’s already at the head of that line,” Bucky said gratefully, “but yes, absolutely.”

“Well, then, I am very happy for you that she’s here,” Nat said, smiling. “Now lemme at her.”

“One thing, though,” Bucky said quietly. Nat looked at him, her eyebrows arched. “She doesn’t know anything about Brock. We haven’t talked about that, and I don’t want to get into it. Not here.”

“Gotcha,” she nodded, hugging him. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he said, hugging her back, loving that he was one of the few people that enjoyed Nat’s genuine affection. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Clint moved in then, laughing. “Don’t I get hugs, too?” He pulled Bucky into his arms, squeezing him. “Happy birthday, Bunky.”

“Thanks, Clunky,” Bucky laughed. Stepping back, he said, “Come on, you two need to meet my mom and sister.”

***

Bucky had an amazing evening, talking and laughing and introducing his sister and his mother to all of his friends. He had grinned at the dumbstruck expression on Peter’s face when he had met Becca; Bucky had always liked Steve’s assistant, and the young man looking at his sister like she hung the moon wasn’t doing a darn thing to lower Bucky’s opinion of him.

Becca and Peter were deep in a discussion of her computer science degree and whether she preferred development, integration, or analysis, when Tony overheard them talking. “I love that with technology, there is no finish line,” Becca was saying. “It’s constantly changing, constantly evolving; there’s always a new direction and new things to learn.”

“What are your plans for the summer?” Tony asked her.

“Nothing’s been set, so far,” Becca admitted, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’ve applied for a few different internship programs in Indiana, but I won’t hear about those for a couple of months yet.”

“You should definitely consider interning here,” Tony said. “We’ve got some great programs,” he added, as if the highly coveted StarkTech internships were simply given out to anybody who wanted one.

“As amazing as that would be,” Becca said wryly, “I wouldn’t want to get an internship with you just because you like my brother.”

“Well, naturally, you’d have to make it past the first few screenings for me to even see your application,” Tony said, smirking, “and anyone who can do that is more than good enough to intern here.” He took a sip of his drink and then said, “And for the record, I don’t just like your brother, I _adore_ your brother. He’s made Steve, my best friend, the man who is my brother in all but blood, the happiest I’ve ever seen him; to me, that makes Buckeroo family, which makes _you_ family. And what kind of person would I be not to help out family?”

At Becca’s baffled expression, Peter leaned closer to her and said, “We’ve learned not to argue with him when he gets his mind set on something. It’s best to just roll with it.”

“And that is why you are my favorite SHIELD assistant,” Tony smirked, booping Peter’s nose. “But don’t tell Darcy I said that.” Turning back to Becca, he said, “So, yes, definitely check out our summer programs, see which one you like best and let me know. Another drink?” He took the nearly empty glass out of her hand and walked over to the bar.

“What just happened?” Becca asked, dumbfounded.

“Welcome to StarkTech?” Peter said, laughing. “I hope you like mad scientists.”

***

A little while later, Bucky and Steve wandered out of the elevator, cheeks flushed, arms around each other, and smiling like loons. “Where were you?” Sam asked, laughing at the two men. “And what the hell are you holding?”

Bucky snorted, holding up two condoms, one bright purple and one green, that Steve had blown up like balloons. “We grabbed some beer out of our fridge and Tony had, uh, _decorated_ them for us.”

“I guess I should be happy he didn’t put my face on those, too,” Steve said, shaking his head. At the grin that started to stretch across Bucky’s face, he sputtered, “No! No way, don’t you dare!”

Sam threw back his head and laughed out loud. “If you don’t, Bucky, I will!”

“I have the worst friends ever,” Steve chuckled, his cheeks turning redder by the second.

“Come on, handsome,” Bucky said, tugging Steve toward the living area, “I wanna toss some bags at your face.”

Steve nearly choked on the beer he was drinking as Sam continued to cackle.

“Bean bags, I meant bean bags, _clearly,_ ” Bucky said, pretending to be horrified. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Samuel.”

“Go clutch your damn pearls over there, young man,” Sam laughed, hooking his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I need to borrow your boyfriend for a minute. Wedding stuff.”

“Not too long?” Bucky asked, letting his lip jut out a little.

“Not too long, angel face, I promise,” Steve murmured with a smile, kissing Bucky softly. “I’ll bring you some food, too.” He sighed happily as he watched Bucky skip off toward the living area and the bean bag toss game, where Nat and Clint were beating everyone else handily.

“Good Lord, man, you are the most love-sick puppy I’ve ever seen in my life,” Sam teased, lowering his voice. “And I’m going to pretend that I don’t notice how your boy is walking a little funnier since you two mysteriously vanished half an hour ago.”

“Shut it,” Steve growled, smacking Sam across the stomach with his forearm.

“Oof!” Sam grunted, holding his abdomen. “Careful there, man. I’m fragile.” Steve huffed a laugh in response. “Seriously, though, I did want to let you know that we have some appointments set up for wedding nonsense.”

“If I hear you call it ‘nonsense’ one more time,” Maria said, smiling sweetly as she walked over to join them, “I swear to god I am going to put icy hot in your underwear.”

“Busted,” Steve whispered loudly, leaning over to kiss Maria on the cheek. “Whatever you need, Maria, I promise I will help in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Steve,” Maria said sweetly, as Sam pretended to cough into his fist, covering a noise that sounded suspiciously like he was saying, “ _Suck up._ ” She narrowed her eyes at Sam—mostly playfully—before turning back to Steve and saying, “I’ll email you the information for the appointments that have already been arranged, okay? One is for a cake tasting and one is to get measured for tuxes.”

“Of course. Oh, um, can I ask—” Steve said hesitantly.

“What? What do you need?” she asked.

“Would it be okay if I brought Bucky?” Steve asked her. “I’d like to get him a tux also, for the wedding.”

“Aww, so you two can match?” Sam said, batting his eyelashes.

“Yes, you cold-hearted bastard, so we can match,” Steve replied, laughing. “Obviously, I’ll get him a different colored tie and handkerchief, but—“

“Oh, that would be so sweet,” Maria said. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll let them know he’s coming, too.”

“Thanks, Maria,” Steve smiled. He looked over his shoulder at his boyfriend, who was laughing and playing the bag-toss with their friends. He sighed, smiling softly.

“So, Steve,” Maria started casually, “any chance that you’ll be popping a question soon?”

“Geez, girl, cool your jets!” Sam chided, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulders and giving Maria a scandalized look. “They’ve only been together a few months, give ‘em some time!”

“Actually, Sam…” Steve trailed off, grinning.

Maria gasped, covering her mouth. “Steve!”

“No, no, calm down,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I just meant to say that if I didn’t think he would tell me it was too soon, I’d ask him right now.”

“Seriously?” Sam asked, his brows arched high in surprise.

“Seriously,” Steve nodded. He couldn’t stop smiling. “I love him. He’s it for me. The One.”

“Oh, Steve,” Maria, said, tears springing to her eyes. “I’m so happy for you. That’s wonderful.”

“Well,” Becca said, wandering out from behind a cardboard cut-out, “I’m pretty sure you’ll get my mom’s blessing. You’ve got mine already.” She took a sip of her drink, barely able to keep the smile off her face.

Steve’s faced paled slightly. “Becca, don’t say anything, please,” he begged. “I don’t want Bucky to feel any pressure about this.”

“No, no, of course I won’t,” she assured him, waving her hand around. “I’m looking forward to having another big brother. I don’t want to cause you any problems.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, relieved. He looked over his shoulder again, grinning when he saw that Bucky and his mom had teamed up to take on Wanda and Pietro in the game. He finished his beer and said, “I’m going to get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Worked up an appetite, did ya?” Sam smirked, yelping when both Steve and Maria poked him in the side.

“Don’t want to know, la-la-la,” Becca sang, walking away and shaking her head.

As Steve made a move to head over to the buffet, Maria stopped him. “One more thing, Steve,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to mention it to Bucky tonight, but we’ll need to talk soon about his testimony.”

Steve sighed, a serious expression briefly coming over his face. “I know. Next week? After his mom and sister are gone?”

“Okay,” she nodded, giving him a kiss and patting him on the cheek. He smiled and went to get some food, though he wasn’t quite as hungry anymore.

***

Even though Steve made sure Bucky ate and drank plenty of water, he was still a little tipsy when they finally said their last goodnights to everyone and went downstairs to their suite. Tony and Pepper had generously offered to provide rooms for everyone who wanted to sleep over rather than try to catch a cab at that late hour, and several people—Becca and Freddie, included, of course—had taken them up on it.

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky sighed happily, toeing off his shoes and then twirling his way through their dining room and into the kitchen, “this has been the _greatest_ birthday ever.”

He’d had such a fantastic time; incredible food, a delicious cake, lots of cocktails, all of his friends—and his family. He wanted to pinch himself; it almost seemed too good to be true. His mom and sister had fit right in with the family he had made for himself in New York—even Nat had warmed up to his mother quickly once she had learned the truth. It had been perfect. They had eaten, drank, danced, opened presents—Steve had gotten them tickets for _Hamilton_ for the following week and Bucky could have died on the spot, he was so excited—and everyone had had a great night.

“I’m glad you had such a good day. Are you hungry at all, sweetheart?” Steve asked with a smile, taking off his own shoes and lining up both pairs by the door. He then followed Bucky into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and taking out two bottles of water. He unscrewed the cap of one bottle and then set it on the island counter in front of his boyfriend.

“Kinda, sorta,” Bucky said, wiggling onto one of the counter-height barstools and taking a sip of water. “I would describe it as ‘peckish.’”

“So what are you peckish for, birthday boy?” the big blond asked, a grin stretching across his face.

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, spinning around once on the barstool. “Whoa,” he said, steadying himself by grabbing the counter with both hands. “Ooh! Are there any English muffins?”

Steve looked in the refrigerator. “There are,” he said, taking out the package. “Would you like me to toast one for you?”

“Yes, please,” he grinned, drinking some more water.

“What would you like on it?” Steve asked, digging through a drawer for a knife.

“Creeeam cheeeese, pleeeease,” he giggled.

Steve laughed at him as he cut the two halves apart and set them in a toaster oven. “How drunk are you?”

“Not very,” Bucky said happily. “Just enough to feel really silly.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head as he grabbed a plate out of an upper cabinet. “You are adorable.”

“I know,” Bucky sang, swinging his feet back and forth. “And you love me,” he teased, as if he was telling Steve something he didn’t already know.

“Yes, I do,” Steve agreed with a smile, setting the plate down by the toaster, “though I wonder why sometimes.”

“Really?” Bucky asked, a surprised expression on his face.

Steve turned to look at him with a confused frown. Apparently snarkiness didn’t always translate very well when Bucky was inebriated.

“No,” Steve said softly, walking around the island and taking Bucky’s face gently in both hands, “not really.” He kissed him slowly and thoroughly, allowing one hand to comb through Bucky’s hair and cup the back of his head. “I know exactly why I love you,” he whispered against Bucky’s lips, “and I know that I always will.”

Bucky sighed then, happily—and maybe with a little relief. “I love you, too, Stevie,” he murmured. He hooked his fingers through the belt loops on Steve’s pants, tugging him closer to stand between his knees. Once Steve was pressed up against him, he slid his arms around the big blond’s waist and hugged him tight, nuzzling into his chest. “Even more than I love Clint’s coffee.”

“Aww,” Steve cooed, chuckling, “you say the sweetest things.” He rubbed up and down Bucky’s back soothingly and kissed the top of his head.

Just then the toaster dinged and Steve tried to extricate himself from Bucky’s grasp; the little brunet whined as he pulled away. “I’m just getting you food, baby. I’ll come right back, I promise.”

Bucky huffed, sticking his bottom lip out. “Okay.”

Steve paused to get the cream cheese out of the refrigerator, and then moved onto the toaster. After putting the hot pieces of bread on the plate and blowing softly on his fingers, he spread a light layer of cheese on them, and then turned and slid the plate across the counter to his boyfriend. “Careful, they’re still a little hot.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Bucky said, as he picked up one of the muffins and took a bite. He chewed quickly and swallowed, chasing it with some water. “Yup, hot.” He took another sip of water. “Really good, though.”

Steve put the cream cheese away and put the knife in the dishwasher. “Is that going to be enough or will you still be hungry?”

“This is perfect,” Bucky said, trying another bite. He hummed happily, as it had cooled a bit. “Mmm, yummy.”

Steve came back around and sat next to Bucky, taking a sip out of his own water bottle. “Aren’t you hungry?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. “I’m fine. I was eating at the party while you were drinking.”

“Did you have fun?” Bucky asked, picking up the second muffin.

“Other than having to look at my ugly mug everywhere I turned for hours,” he laughed, “yes, I had a good time. More importantly, did you?”

“Hey, no trash-talking my beautiful boyfriend’s gorgeous face,” Bucky grumbled teasingly. “I love that face.” He took another sip of water. “And yes, I had a great time. It was really nice of Tony to have the party in his apartment.”

“He volunteered,” Steve said, “so we wouldn’t have to worry about clean-up after.”

“He is a really sweet guy under all the public image, isn’t he?” Bucky asked fondly.

“He really is. Always has been,” Steve nodded. “I think that’s why I kind of forget sometimes that he’s _‘Tony Stark, Billionaire CEO,’_ ” Steve intoned, “because that guy? The one all over the magazines and the press conferences? That’s not really Tony. The guy that I know, the one that makes secret trips to children’s hospitals dressed as a superhero and gives massive anonymous donations to schools—that’s the Tony I know.”

“That’s nice,” Bucky smiled softly. “I’m glad he has Pepper. Seems like she understands that about him, too—the need to keep the real Tony hidden from public view.”

“She does,” Steve agreed.

Bucky finished up the rest of his late-night snack and slid off his chair. “Now I’m full. And sleepy.”

“Go on and get ready for bed, sweetheart,” Steve said, standing up and giving Bucky a kiss. “I’ll put this in the dishwasher and then I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay,” he smiled dreamily, and then he turned and shuffled slowly down the short hallway to their room.

Steve dealt with the dishes, wiped down the counter and washed his hands, and then he took two more water bottles out of the refrigerator and went down the hall, the lights behind him turning out as he went. After putting the water bottles on their respective nightstands, he found Bucky in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, his eyes closed, humming happily and swaying slowly back and forth.

Steve smiled, picking up his toothbrush and applying toothpaste; he stood behind Bucky and wrapped a big arm around his waist, kissing his cheek before he started brushing. He could see Bucky smiling around his toothbrush in the mirror’s reflection. “I luh yoo, Steewee,” Bucky said as he brushed, grinning.

“I luh yoo, choo, Muggy,” Steve replied, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

Bucky finished brushing before Steve did, and he leaned over to spit into the sink and rinse his mouth out, wiggling his backside into Steve’s crotch as he did so. Steve groaned, laughing, his hand curling around Bucky’s hip and squeezing lightly. When Bucky was done rinsing, he hopped up on the counter and sat there, yawning and smiling, waiting for Steve to finish.

As Steve dropped his toothbrush into the holder, he glanced at Bucky. “You okay there, Buck?” he asked, trying not to smile.

“Just thinking of some fond memories,” he sighed, looking at Steve flirtatiously, trailing his finger along the edge of the counter. “Seems like it was only yesterday.”

“It _was_ only yesterday, you goofball,” Steve chuckled. He looked at his watch. “As a matter of fact, it was only about six hours ago; but, oh, look at that,” he said, showing Bucky the watch face. “It’s after midnight. It’s not your birthday anymore.”

“Aw,” Bucky pouted prettily, his bottom lip jutting out.

Steve stepped between Bucky’s knees, lightly scratching his fingernails up the brunet’s lean, muscled thighs before wrapping his hands around his backside and pulling him in close. “Don’t be sad, angel face,” he murmured, kissing his boyfriend softly. “I’ll still give you whatever you want.”

“You always do,” he replied quietly, snaking both hands up Steve’s chest and behind his neck, weaving them into his hair. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling Steve down into another kiss.

“I love you, too,” Steve responded, breaking away just long enough to say the words before claiming Bucky’s lips again. He slid his hands under Bucky’s ass and lifted him; the smaller man locked his ankles together at the small of Steve’s back, pulling their bodies tightly together. Steve moaned, backing them out of the bathroom and then turning toward the bed. He knelt on the mattress, laying Bucky diagonally across its surface. “What can I give you tonight, baby boy?” he asked, dragging his teeth along his boyfriend’s lightly scruffy jaw. Bucky’s hips twitched in response, grinding briefly against Steve’s pelvis.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, grinning dazedly. “More, please, Daddy.”

“Everything, sweetheart,” he said, “everything for you.” He pulled back and sat up on his knees, smiling at Bucky’s whine of displeasure. “No worries, love.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away, then tugged Bucky’s shirt off as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” He undid Bucky’s jeans and stood at the side of the bed, shimmying them down Bucky’s legs, and then discarded his own pants.

Climbing back on to the bed, Steve lowered his head and began to place small, soft kisses all over Bucky’s stomach and chest, slowly working his way up to his throat; he grinned, hearing a contented sigh and easy, even breathing. Picking his head up, he looked at his boyfriend’s face; his eyes were shut, and a peaceful smile graced his lips. “Bucky?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm?” the little brunet hummed, before he started a bit and his eyes popped open. “I’m awake,” he said, blinking rapidly.

Steve clamped his lips shut to hold back his laughter. “I can see that,” he murmured, kissing Bucky’s cheek. “C’mere, baby doll,” he whispered. He pulled back a corner of the covers.

“What?” Bucky asked, rubbing his eyes. When Steve tilted his head toward the pillows, indicating that Bucky needed to get under the covers, he pouted. “But I’m awake, Stevie. And I’m horny.”

“Okay,” Steve said, lying down on his back and opening his arms with a big smile. “Have at me, honey.”

Bucky huffed, rolling over slowly and inching toward Steve’s prone form. When he finally made it to Steve’s side, he threw a leg over the bigger man’s hips and straddled him, a teasingly triumphant smile on his face. “Told you I was awake,” he grinned blearily.

“Yes, you did,” Steve agreed, smiling in return. “And now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”

Bucky lay down, covering Steve’s body with his own. “Kiss you all over,” he replied, nuzzling under Steve’s ear. He inhaled deeply and sighed, “You smell so good, Stevie. I love how you smell.”

Chuckling under his breath, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s lean-but-muscular body, holding him close. “I love how you smell, too, sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” Bucky replied, kissing and snuggling, getting more and more cuddly, until he simply laid his head down on Steve’s shoulder and curled his arms in, making himself comfortable on Steve’s chest. “You feel so nice,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile. “So big and warm. I love you so much, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, sweet boy,” Steve replied softly, kissing his forehead and combing his fingers through Bucky’s thick, wavy hair. “More than anything in the whole world.”

Bucky hummed in response, too drowsy to say anything more. The fingers of his right hand moved gently over the bigger man’s collarbone, slowing gradually, until he stopped completely. His breathing deepened and lengthened as Steve pulled the sheets over the both of them and he stroked Bucky’s hair until he, too, fell asleep.

***

The morning, and its subsequent obligations, came a little sooner than Bucky was prepared for. Thanks to Steve, his hangover wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it could have been (Bucky tended to forget about things like food and water when he drank), so rather than nursing a throbbing headache, he was kissing and licking his way down Steve’s mouth-watering body and getting ready to start sucking a big, beautiful, throbbing—

“Good morning, Mister Rogers, Mister Barnes.”

“Jesus, JARVIS!” Bucky yelped, jumping in surprise.

“Ah! Watch the kneecaps!” Steve cried, reaching down just in time to prevent Bucky’s bony patella from slamming into his groin.

“Shit—sorry, Stevie,” Bucky said, wincing. He sighed in irritation, sitting back on his heels and looking up toward the ceiling. “What’s up, Jay?”

“I apologize for the interruption,” The A.I. said, and Steve would swear that he could hear the cheesy grin in his computer-generated voice, “but I thought it prudent to warn you that Miss Barnes is on her way to your floor.”

“What? Why?” Bucky whined, his bottom lip sticking out. Dammit, he wanted sexy times with his beefcake.

“Several of your party guests have congregated in Mister Stark’s residence and breakfast is being served. Miss Barnes volunteered to retrieve you.”

“You could have told her that you would notify us, you know that, right?” Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“She also expressed a desire to see your suite,” JARVIS responded. “She was quite persuasive.”

Bucky groaned. “Yeah, she is,” he exhaled. “Okay, Jay, thanks for the warning.”

“You are quite welcome, sirs, and I hope you have a very pleasant day. The time is currently eight forty-three, a.m., and the weather is clear with a temperature of forty degrees. Today will remain sunny with a high temperature of forty-five degrees.”

Steve smiled, in spite of the interruption to what was sure to be a stellar blowjob, and said, “Why don’t you hop in the shower, baby doll? I’ll give Becca a little tour and then send her back upstairs.”

“And then you’ll join me in the shower?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, sitting up to give Bucky a soft, sweet, lingering kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love for our favorite boy! <3
> 
> This installment in the series is considerably more complex than Part 1; there's a lot going on, as Steve's conversation with Maria hinted at.
> 
> Because of that, it looks like my original estimate of 18 chapters will be bumped up to 20. I'll do my best to keep all the storylines and subplots clear, but please let me know if it starts to feel muddled.
> 
> See you next time, my friends!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	3. I'm Cruising the Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where do I even start? These are without a doubt the strangest and most stressful times I've ever lived in. We are on full lock-down here, only allowed to go out for essentials--meaning food. The huz and kids have been working/schooling from home for the last two weeks, and frankly, they're starting to drive me crazy. I love my family, but JFC I need some time to myself. XD
> 
> Anyway, here's a little fluff and a smidge of smut to help get you through this week. I'm crossing fingers and toes that you are all doing well and that you are safe and healthy.

Bucky bounced off to the shower while Steve pulled on a robe and straightened up the bed just in time for Becca to arrive at their door. He gave her a quick tour of the space, just enough for her to ooh and ahh over the view and the kitchen, let her know that he and Bucky would be up for breakfast soon, and then kicked her out.

He returned to their bedroom, promptly stripped, and walked into the shower, grinning at the soaking wet brunet that was waiting for him. “She’s gone,” Steve said, wrapping his arms around his warm and slippery boyfriend from behind. “We’re safe for at least a few minutes.”

Bucky hummed happily, tipping his head back to rest against Steve’s well-muscled and very comfortable shoulder as he luxuriated under the gentle spray of the showerhead.

As much as Bucky loved their apartment back in Brooklyn—the cozy, cuddly, warm feel of it would always scream _home_ to him—he most decidedly lusted after the bathroom here in their Tower suite. The room containing the shower and bathtub was almost what he would call decadent. The soft, grey tones in quartz and stone of the shower surrounded them, nearly floor-to-ceiling on three sides; the fourth side was clear glass, open to the rest of the room, allowing the narrow windows running horizontally along the wall above their heads to illuminate the entire room in natural light.

A stone bench ran the length of the shower wall to encourage people to make use of the steam function, and stone ledges were scattered about, holding toiletries of different types and scents. Independently operated showerheads, both fixed and hand-held, were placed at regular intervals around the perimeter, and the largest rainfall showerhead fixture Bucky had ever seen dominated the ceiling. It was definitely intended to make showering a group activity.

The bathtub was easily large enough to fit two full-sized adults—three if they were on extremely friendly terms—and was nestled in the alcove created by the shower and the rear wall of the room. Deep and tri-oval, it was full of jets and heaters to ensure the water never got cold. Surrounded by candles and plants, the room felt like a sanctuary, peaceful and quiet, separated from the rest of the world.

“A few minutes, huh?” Bucky leered at him, turning in his arms and putting his hands on the blond’s tiny waist in order to steer him backward to sit on the bench along the wall. One of the several nearby showerheads was adjusted to rain gently down behind his shoulders and back, and then Bucky knelt between his spread knees. “I probably shouldn’t waste any time then, I suppose,” he teased, sliding his hands up Steve’s muscular thighs.

“Oh, no, baby doll,” Steve shook his head, leaning forward to kiss him hungrily. “Take all the time you need.”

“Well, in that case,” Bucky smiled coquettishly, batting his wet eyelashes, as he took Steve’s already hardening shaft firmly in hand, making him grunt, “I suggest you get comfortable, Daddy.”

Keeping his gaze fixed on the older man, Bucky lowered his head and slowly licked him from root to tip, his tongue flat and wide. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the gorgeous man between his legs; he watched, spellbound, as Bucky wrapped his lush, red lips around the head of his now-rigid cock and sucked softly. “Fuck,” he exhaled, gripping the edge of the stone bench he was seated on, “you are the prettiest little boy I’ve ever seen.”

Even with his mouth stuffed full, Bucky managed to smile and preen.

He tortured him, slowly and deeply; the size of Steve’s shaft made it a near-impossibility that Bucky could ever swallow the whole thing down, but that didn’t stop him from trying. His gag reflex was still definitely an obstacle, but he was training himself to ignore it, attempting to focus on the incredible sounds Steve made instead. Gasping, moaning, growling, and whimpering; every swipe and swirl of his tongue brought a glorious new sound forth from the big blond.

Peering up at the gorgeous man seated above him, Bucky couldn’t help but feel the absolute rush of power sweeping through him. Steve looked completely wrecked. His face was a study in desperation; he was flushed from his forehead to his waist, and his hands were squeezing the edge of the stone seat so hard that his knuckles had turned white. Hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, Bucky slowly pulled back, listening to the animalistic groan that emanated from Steve’s chest. When he finally released him from his mouth with an obscenely loud _pop!_ and began gently pumping the rock-hard shaft with his fist, he looked up with an overly innocent expression and asked ever-so-sweetly, “Am I doing this right, Daddy? Does it feel good?”

“Holy fuckin’ shit, angel face, I am barely hangin’ on here,” Steve moaned, laughing breathlessly. He lifted a hand to cup Bucky’s cheek. “You’re being so good for me, sweetheart, makin’ your Daddy feel so damn good.”

Bucky shivered at the praise, his eyes sliding shut as the kind words flowed over him, warming him from the inside out. He opened his eyes again to see Steve watching him, his own eyes darkened with desire.

Steve slid his hand back, into Bucky’s long, wet hair, gripped it tight, and murmured, “Now why don’t you get that sweet mouth back on Daddy’s cock, sugar?”

Bucky’s breath caught and he whimpered, feeling the sparks shoot down his spine. “Yes, yes, Daddy,” he whispered in a rush, practically leaping forward to swallow Steve down again.

“Oh, _fuck,_ yes,” he heard Steve moan, and he took another peek up at his boyfriend. He was watching intently as Bucky bobbed and sucked, short phrases occasionally falling from his red, bite-swollen lips. “Such a pretty baby…gorgeous boy…so good to me…I’m so lucky….”

Bucky soaked it all up, encouraging Steve to pull his hair harder by wrapping his hand around Steve’s and squeezing, while at the same time using them to push his head down.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, love?” Steve gritted out, using the thumb of his other hand to trace his around Bucky’s lips, feeling how stretched they were. When the smaller man nodded, groaning, Steve asked clearly, “What’s your color, baby doll?”

Bucky lifted off his shaft only long enough to gasp, “Green, so green,” before he plunged down again.

“Jesus,” the older man groaned, his head tipping back in ecstasy to thump against the wall. “Okay, love, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you need to stop and you can’t speak, pinch my thigh, okay?” When Bucky nodded, his mouth still full, Steve said, “I need you to say that you understand, baby. Use your words.”

Bucky pulled off his cock, nodding and murmuring, “I understand, Daddy. Pinch your thigh if I need to stop.”

“That’s my good boy,” Steve smiled.

“Am I allowed to come, Daddy?” Bucky asked, grinning, as if he fully knew what the answer would be.

Steve opened his mouth to give his permission, before shutting it again and looking at Bucky with a rather predatory smile. Finally he said, “You’re allowed to come, baby doll—but only if you can come without touching yourself, understood? Otherwise, you’ll have to wait for Daddy to make you come.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

“What’s your color, baby boy?”

“Green, Daddy,” he replied, breathing faster as arousal punched his heart rate up.

“Wrap your hand around my cock, so that I don’t push you down too far,” Steve instructed. “I only want you to take me as deep as you can comfortably—I don’t want to choke you or hurt you.”

“Maybe I want to choke a little,” Bucky teased, smirking up at the blond man, pumping his shaft gently.

“Not today,” Steve shook his head firmly. “It’s too hard to hear in the shower. I won’t risk hurting you.”

“I understand, Daddy,” he smiled.

“Good,” Steve said softly, and then his voice turned sharper. “One hand on my thigh, baby boy, and the other around my cock.” He waited until Bucky had complied, and then he dug his right hand into his little boy’s thick, wet hair. “Open up, beautiful,” he gritted out, feeding his shaft once again between soft, plush red lips.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, slowly dropping down until the swollen head was just nudging the back of his throat. He squeezed what he couldn’t fit of Steve’s shaft firmly in his right hand and pinched Steve’s thigh lightly with his left. The bigger man let him up immediately, until only the head of his cock was still in Bucky’s mouth.

“Fuck, you good boy,” Steve groaned, now threading his left hand into Bucky’s hair and curling his fingers. “So perfect, you gorgeous little thing.”

He started slow, directing Bucky’s head down until his lips met his fist, and then pulled him back up again. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered and he moaned at the light tingling in his scalp, the weight and taste of Steve’s cock in his mouth, musky and slightly salty, and at the sweet words spilling from Steve’s mouth that were turning his insides to jelly. Saliva built up behind his teeth and his dick twitched hard, heat pooling low in his belly.

He began to pick up speed, forcing Bucky’s head up and down a little faster, keeping a close eye on his little boy. It became evident very quickly that his baby was loving the slightly rough treatment, however; he was moaning and sighing and doing things with his tongue that was making Steve’s eyes cross.

“God, baby,” he breathed, watching his cock slide and out of Bucky’s mouth, spit dripping down his chin, “I can’t fuckin’ take it, you’re so beautiful, so good for me.” When Bucky looked up at him and winked, his eyes crinkling at the corners, Steve nearly came apart right then and there. As it was, he was rapidly approaching the point of no return, his balls and lower abdomen tightening. “Jesus,” he grunted, “gettin’ close, baby doll.”

Bucky sucked even harder then, his right hand pumping where it was gripping Steve’s shaft, and the bigger man gasped out a warning before holding Bucky’s head down with one hand, bracing the other hand on the bench behind him, and thrusting up erratically into the younger man’s mouth as much as he could. Bucky continued to pump his shaft, sucking and slurping and swallowing greedily as Steve’s orgasm swept over him. “Oh, _oh, fuck,_ baby, oh, my god,” Steve groaned, wave after wave of pleasure pulling him under and robbing him of coherent thought.

With both of his hands occupied, Bucky knew there was no was that he was going to be able to orgasm on his own; therefore, waiting for Steve to make him come was his only option. That didn’t stop his hips from jerking, though, his dick searching for something to rub up against as he watched his boyfriend fall apart.

Steve slumped back against the wall as he came down, the warm water soaking his hair and running down over his shoulders to his chest and stomach. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his heart pounded. His grip on Bucky’s hair had loosened, and he was now gently petting the brunet’s wet, heavy locks and lightly scratching at his scalp.

He looked down, smiling at the stunning boy kneeling at his feet with a softening cock in his mouth. He huffed a tired laugh at the smug and _very_ satisfied expression on Bucky’s face as he kissed and licked Steve’s shaft, still lightly pumping with his right hand. His left hand, still on Steve’s thigh, had not moved until now; he started rubbing up and down, massaging and squeezing the thick muscle under his hand.

“Was I good, Daddy?” he asked sweetly, giving Steve the same wide-eyed innocent look that got them into this position to begin with.

“The best, baby boy,” Steve grinned dopily. His brow furrowed and he asked, “Did I hurt you at all, sweetheart?”

“Not even a little,” Bucky assured him, laying his head on Steve’s other thigh. “Felt so good,” he sighed, smiling.

“Do you still need to come, angel face?”

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky nodded against his leg. “Please, Daddy?”

“Of course, little love, you were so wonderful for me,” Steve said, cupping his face and tugging him gently up and forward to straddle him. Their lips came together in a soft, tender kiss as Steve held him close. “My perfect baby boy,” he murmured against Bucky’s lips, “do you want my hand or my mouth?”

“I’m not gonna last long, either way,” the little brunet drawled, his tongue darting out to lick teasingly at his boyfriend’s upper lip. “I’m already really close.”

“How about my hand, then?” Steve said, smiling. “I want to keep kissin’ you.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, happily buzzing. “I love your kisses.”

Steve spit on his right hand and reached for his boyfriend’s hard shaft, stroking it firmly. Bucky moaned, his head falling back in pleasure. “Stevie,” he exhaled, bringing his hands up into the short blond hair.

“Is that okay, sweetheart?” Steve asked, kissing and nibbling up the side of Bucky’s throat while his left hand trailed up and down the younger man’s back.

“Yeah,” Bucky moaned, the word ending on a little whine. He thrust forward into Steve’s fist, his fingers curling into the bigger man’s hair and holding him close. “Feels so good, Daddy. Love when you touch me.”

Steve scraped his teeth along Bucky’s jaw, whispering, “Oh, honey, you’re just the prettiest li’l thing I’ve ever seen. Wanna come all over me? Make a mess on Daddy?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky nodded, dropping his hands to Steve’s shoulders as his hips rolled faster. His breathing sped up and became shallower as he felt the warm pressure start to build in his lower abdomen; that telltale sensation that would eventually take over his whole body, causing hot sparks to shoot up and down his spine and make his toes curl.

“C’mon, honey, fuck into my hand, that’s my good boy,” Steve purred. He smiled as Bucky’s fingers curled into his shoulders, his blunt nails digging into the hard muscle. He spit onto the tip of Bucky’s cock, working his saliva over the shaft. “Such a gorgeous cock,” he whispered, sucking and biting a mark under the hinge of Bucky’s jaw. “Maybe you’ll want to fuck me with it someday.”

“Oh, god!” Bucky gasped loudly, his stomach muscles clenching hard and his pelvis thrusting forward as he came so hard and so fast that he didn’t even have time to warn Steve before he released, hot and thick, over the bigger man’s chest and abdomen. “ _Fuck,_ ” he whimpered, his breath stuttering and catching repeatedly. Breathy moans escaped his throat as his muscles tensed and spasmed while he rode out the intense sensations.

Finally, he slumped, exhausted, against Steve’s chest, and the bigger man wrapped his arms around Bucky’s long, lean frame, tucking him close. “That was beautiful, sweetheart,” Steve whispered in his ear. “Thank you.”

“Pretty sure _I_ should be thanking _you,_ ” Bucky snickered, a goofy grin plastered across his face. He nuzzled into Steve’s throat and sighed happily. “I don’t want to move,” he chuckled.

“Did that wear you out, baby doll?” Steve asked, stroking his long, wet hair with one hand, the other firmly anchoring their torsos together.

“Yeah, a little,” the little brunet smiled, “and the fact that I can’t feel anything from the knees down.”

“Aww,” Steve cooed, holding Bucky tightly as he carefully got to his feet.

Bucky groaned as his legs straightened out and his feet slowly dropped to the floor. “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed quietly as feeling started returning to his lower extremities.

“C’mon, angel face, let me get you cleaned up,” Steve said, directing him back under the warm spray. He lathered Bucky from head to toe, being especially gentle with his red, sore kneecaps. He gave each one a little kiss, smiling as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Such a sap,” he grinned, feeling so ridiculously, stupidly in love that he thought for sure there must be little pink hearts in his eyes.

“Your sap,” Steve replied, standing and pulling the smaller man into his arms. “C’mon, let’s rinse off and get some breakfast.”

***

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Sam muttered under his breath upon Steve and Bucky wandering into Tony’s apartment, hand-in-hand. He was piling scrambled eggs onto a plate that was already covered in bacon and sausages. “Was wondering how long it would take you two to come up for air.” He looked briefly at Bucky’s neck. “Nice hickey, by the way.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Steve smiled, shaking his head.

The room was full of their friends and family. Becca and Freddie were chatting away with Maria and Peggy and waved when they walked in, Pete and Peter were laughing suspiciously, and Mora and Darcy were rolling their eyes at them. The sound of laughter and the smell of good food hung in the air.

“It’s still my birthday weekend,” Bucky pointed out, smirking. “I get to be slow and lazy and spoiled rotten during birthday weekend.”

“Absolutely,” Steve grinned, kissing the side of Bucky’s head and patting him on the bottom. “Why don’t you go grab us a couple of chairs at the table? I’ll get you a plate.”

“Thank you, Dad—um, Stevie,” he stammered, eyes widening and face reddening. He turned and rushed off to the table without a backward glance.

Steve took one look at Sam’s raised eyebrows and muttered lowly, “Not one word, Sam, his mom’s here. Don’t embarrass him.”

Sam shook his head, frowning. “Never in a million years, my friend.” He grabbed a blueberry muffin and added it to his towering plate. “You’ve always been a caretaker type, it’s not exactly a surprise. Frankly, you two are so in love that you’re making me look bad.”

“You and Bucky are adorable,” Maria said to Steve, wandering through and taking the plate of food right out of Sam’s hand. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She kissed Sam on the cheek and then returned to the table.

Without saying a word or missing a beat, Sam picked up another plate from the end of the buffet table and started filling it up again. Steve followed behind him, taking two plates and loading them up. “I just don’t ever want him to feel bad or ashamed,” Steve said softly as he easily held both plates. “He’s had enough of that in his life already.”

“In all seriousness, Steve,” Sam said, turning to face his best friend, “this is not a big deal. You two are obnoxiously perfect for each other. You both light up like the damn sun when you’re together. Anything else is no one’s damn business but your own.” He tilted his head toward the table with a grin. “Now go feed your boy before he gets hangry.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, taking both plates over to where Bucky was sitting with an apprehensive look on his face. After Steve put the plates down and took his seat, Bucky leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I’m so sorry, Stevie, I didn’t mean to do that, I swear, I—“

“Hey, hey, shh,” Steve whispered back, cupping his cheek and nuzzling against him. “Everything is perfectly fine, sweetheart, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But Sam heard—“

“Sam doesn’t think anything of it, and he won’t say anything, either, I promise,” Steve assured him softly, bussing their noses together and giving him a little kiss. “Now go on and eat.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, still clearly concerned.

“Positive, baby.”

After a few seconds, Bucky exhaled and smiled at him, and Steve could see the tension start to leave his shoulders. “Okay,” he nodded, turning to his plate. “Geez, Stevie,” he laughed, looking at the mountain of food in front of him, “did you think I was hungry?”

“Aren’t you?” the big blond asked, digging into his own breakfast.

“I’m starving,” he laughed in response. “Just didn’t think it was that obvious.”

Steve kept his left arm draped over the back of Bucky’s chair, occasionally combing his fingers through his hair or rubbing his back while he ate. Bucky poured a glass of juice for Steve, setting it down next to his plate. “Thank you, baby,” he murmured, kissing Bucky’s cheek. The brunet turned to sneak another quick kiss from his boyfriend’s soft, plush lips.

“Good grief,” Becca said from further down the table. “Are you two this lovey-dovey all the time?”

“Yes,” came the overwhelming response from almost everyone else in the room. Bucky grinned at her smugly.

“Are you kidding?” Sam laughed from across the table. “This is what it looks like when they’re restraining themselves. Normally they’re all curled up together in a puppy pile of hugging and snuggling and cuddling and killin’ the rest of us with how cute they are.” He grinned at Bucky and gave him a reassuring wink. “Seeing as how we’re all here,” he continued, looking at Steve, “isn’t there something you wanted to tell everyone?”

“Actually, there is,” Steve nodded, grateful to his friend for changing the subject. Looking around the table, he said, “I’ve just found out that the New York Comic Con has invited SHIELD Publishing to have not just an Exhibitor booth this year, but they also want us to hold a panel discussion.”

“Really?” Bucky squeaked in surprise, his face lighting up with a huge grin.

“Really,” Steve smiled. “I’ve decided to accept—“ Bucky squealed happily, making Steve laugh, “—and that’s where we’re going to debut our new series.”

Bucky gasped. “You mean—“

“Yup,” Steve smiled and nodded. “The world is going to see _The Winter Soldier_ for the first time during the panel discussion at New York Comic Con.”

“Oh, my god!” the brunet shouted and covered his mouth with his hands. “Are you serious?”

“It’s gonna be huge,” Sam grinned.

“What’s the Winter Soldier?” Becca asked, looking confused.

“It’s the new series we’re introducing,” Steve grinned, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening the photo app. He scrolled through his folders and tapped on the one labeled ‘WSArt.’ In the folder were several pictures of character sketches that Steve had done while working out the particulars for the artists who would be working on the series. “You might recognize the title character,” he joked, passing his phone over to Becca. Freddie leaned over her shoulder to look.

“Oh, my god!” Becca exclaimed, sounding eerily similar to her big brother. “This—this is—oh, my god, Bucky, this is you!” Ignoring the chuckled _“Duh,”_ from Bucky at the other end of the table, she went to swipe the screen to move to the next picture, but then suddenly stopped. “Is it safe to swipe?”

Steve laughed loudly. “Yes, just don’t leave that folder.”

“Ew,” she cringed, but immediately started looking through other pictures in the folder. “This is amazing! You made him look so much cooler than he really is!”

“Becca,” Freddie laughed, swatting her arm while Bucky just rolled his eyes. “Be nice.”

“I am being nice. I said he looked cool,” she argued good-naturedly, handing the phone back when they were finished looking at the art photos. “That looks incredible. I can’t wait to see the first issue.”

“Well, we already have the first four issues ready to go to the printers,” the big blond said, “and four more roughed out, but now that we’re going to NYCC, I want to do a ‘zero issue’ that we can give away to everyone that attends the panel discussion.”

“A ‘zero issue’? What’s that?” Freddie asked.

“It’s like a prequel that gives some background on the main character,” Bucky explained. He turned to Steve. “NYCC is in, what, less than seven months? Are you going to have time to get it done?”

“Oh, sure,” Steve said. “Once we’ve got the story and art done and ready to print, we’ll only need about six weeks to get them all printed and packaged. There might be a few late nights or busy weekends in there getting it written and drawn up, but we’ll be fine.”

Bucky sighed and leaned his head on Steve’s very round, very muscly shoulder. “So proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby doll,” he murmured, kissing the top of the brunet’s head.

The rest of breakfast continued with excited chatter and happy faces. Steve described the storyline that they had worked out for the first dozen issues of the new series, explaining that if the first series sold well, they would continue the story beyond the arc they’d planned out. “We’re already including Captain America in the first story arc, but we will introduce other existing characters into his story, as well as new characters that we come up with,” Steve said.

“That is so cool,” Becca replied, shaking her head. “I can’t even imagine being that creative.”

“Luckily, I’ve got great people to work with who are really imaginative,” he smiled. “We can bounce ideas off each other all day.”

“So what are you planning on doing this week?” Maria asked Becca and Freddie.

“We’re seeing _Hamilton!”_ Bucky shouted, clearly feeling the coffee he’d had to drink that morning.

“There are quite a few things I’d like to see,” Becca said, laughing at her brother’s exuberance. “I know some of them will need to wait until the weather is warmer, so hopefully Bucky will invite me back over the summer.”

“Of course,” her brother nodded happily, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Any time you want to visit, let me know.”

“Visit?” Tony interrupted. “You’ll be interning here over the summer, Miss Barnes, did you forget?”

“What?” Bucky and Freddie both looked at Becca and Tony in surprise.

“I haven’t even applied yet, Mister Stark,” Becca argued.

“You’re applying for a StarkTech internship?” Bucky asked, grinning.

“Of course, she is,” Tony said, while Becca tried to say that she was still considering it.

“When did this happen?” Freddie asked her, confused.

“Last night,” Tony said, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s a done deal.”

“Whoa, hang on—“ Becca blurted, and for the next ten minutes, Bucky and Steve laughed at, essentially, both of their siblings as they argued with each other and then hammered out a tentative agreement regarding Becca’s summer plans. “This is all contingent on me making it through to the final screening, though,” she insisted. “No special treatment.”

“Agreed,” Tony nodded, the two finally shaking on it and exchanging contact information.

“Those two together are a little scary,” Bucky whispered to Steve as he leaned into his side, pleasantly full from his large breakfast.

“She can keep up with him and isn’t afraid to argue back,” Steve nodded. “It’s a good sign.”

“Becca’s never been afraid to stand up and speak her mind,” Bucky said, adding a little sadly, “I wish I’d learned that skill a little earlier.”

“Hey, none of that,” Steve whispered, wrapping his arm around the smaller man. “You are amazing and perfect and I love you.” He kissed his temple and murmured, “You’ll get your chance.”

Bucky looked up at him and nodded with a little smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Steve winked.

***

For the next week, Bucky took his sister and his mom all over the city, showing them around. He took them to the bookstore, where they fell in love with the warm, cozy shop, and then he took them to Vinnie’s deli for lunch, where the big Italian man hugged them all and told Freddie and Becca repeatedly how wonderful Bucky was as he made them more food than they could possibly eat in one sitting.

They went to Rockefeller Center, where it was far too crowded to go ice skating, but the group enjoyed walking around and seeing the sights regardless. It began to snow while they were there; a light, gentle flurry that did nothing to prevent them from continuing their day, the frozen precipitation not sticking to the ground long enough to accumulate.

As mentioned on Bucky’s birthday, Steve had secured _Hamilton_ tickets for the four of them, and it was easily the most amazing show Bucky had ever seen. “I may never stop singing those songs,” he sighed as they were driving home. “That was incredible.”

“I’ll get the rest of us earplugs,” Becca snickered.

“Hey!” Bucky exclaimed, lightly smacking her leg as she sat next to him in the back seat of Steve’s car. “My singing isn’t that bad!”

“Steve?” Becca asked. “You want to weigh in on this one?”

“Nope,” he chuckled, shaking his head. The truth was, Bucky was a terrible singer—but if he was singing, that meant he was happy, and Steve would never ask Bucky to stop doing something that made him happy. It was actually kind of adorable, how bad his singing was—like a puppy that was so ugly that it was cute as a result.

“Sing all you want, sweetheart,” he said, looking at Bucky in the rearview mirror with a fond smile. “Don’t ever stop.”

“Ha!” Bucky said, haughtily. “Told you.”

“Clearly, love has made him tone deaf.”

“You just don’t appreciate my hidden talents.”

“I’m sure I’d appreciate your talents more if you kept them hidden a little better.”

“Children,” Freddie admonished, trying not to laugh. “Play nice.”

They went to museums and restaurants, the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens and Radio City Music Hall. Steve joined them on a couple of their daytime excursions and he showed them around the SHIELD office; dinner at _Il Rosso_ was expanded to include Sam, Peggy, and Tony, all of them eating and talking and laughing for hours.

Bucky’s favorite part of the week, though, were the times that they sat together, quietly talking over coffee or hot chocolate about what they had missed in each other’s lives during the last eight-and-a-half years. Admittedly, he skipped over his relationship with Brock, not wanting to worry his mother and sister; he certainly didn’t want to waste time thinking about his ex-boyfriend until he had to. He also refused to dwell too much on the fact that he’d missed basically a third of Becca’s life, with only phone calls between them, or that he was truly concerned about what his mother would be going back to at the end of the week.

There had been no calls to Becca’s cell phone from Indiana.

Freddie did not have a cell phone, something that Bucky was going to discuss with Steve. Bucky didn’t like asking for things like that, knowing that his boyfriend was getting the devices through Tony _and_ putting them on his company’s calling plan. He considered either calling Tony directly to buy one and activate it himself or just buy his mom a burner phone to hold onto, but he knew Steve’s feelings would be hurt if he didn’t at least talk to him about it first.

Sure enough, Steve insisted on picking up a phone himself, though he did agree that Freddie should have one of the simpler devices rather than the higher-end model smartphone that he, Bucky, and Becca had. “I really don’t think this is necessary,” Freddie protested.

“Please, Mom,” Bucky implored. “Even if you’re just driving around by yourself, Becca and I would feel so much better if you have a way to call for help if there’s a problem.”

“We really would, Mom,” Becca agreed.

There was no way Freddie could say no to her children when they were clearly only thinking of her wellbeing. “Alright,” she conceded. “You’re going to need to show me how to use this, you know.”

“We can do that,” Bucky grinned.

***

Bucky knew that saying goodbye on Sunday morning was going to be difficult. Now that he had his mom and sister back in his life, he wasn’t ready for them to be seven hundred miles away again. Steve, being the ever-thoughtful man he was, had printed out copies of the best pictures of them together from the last week and had given them to Freddie and Becca before they left.

“I typically have Thursdays and Sundays off,” Bucky told Freddie, hugging her close. “I carry my phone with me regardless in case of emergencies, but anytime you just want to chat I have lots of time on those days.”

“We’ll talk, sweetheart,” she replied, sniffling. “I promise, things will be different from now on.”

“Call me when you get home,” Bucky told both women. “I need to know you’re okay.”

After receiving repeated assurances that they would contact him immediately, Becca and Freddie left for the security checkpoint and their departure gate.

“They’ll be fine,” Steve whispered, holding him from behind as they watched the travelers disappear into the crowd inside the terminal.

“I hope so,” Bucky replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of hugs (from a socially acceptable distance) to all of you! Let's remember to be kind to one another and do what we can to help end this nightmare. Stay home, stay safe, and take care.
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	4. Digging the Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me apologize for disappearing for the last month. Everything went to hell, and my family and I have been trying to get work and school all organized from home. We have a lot of older family members in the area, so we've been making sure they all have what they need without having to go out to crowded areas. Sadly, we've also lost a friend--one of my son's best friends has lost his mother, so we have been in mourning as well.
> 
> This has been a month that, I can honestly admit, I never imagined happening in my lifetime. Needless to say, I've felt pretty overwhelmed at times. I promise I will get to the comments that have been left on the last chapter--it may not be fast, but it will happen.
> 
> This chapter, unfortunately, is where the angst begins; great timing, I know. We also get to bring in some new characters, several of which I absolutely adore, though, so yay. :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and I'll see you at the end. :)

The following Monday, Bucky’s workweek resumed as usual. Everyone was glad to have him back, though they were thrilled that he’d had such a great time with his family.

“Your mom and sister are so sweet,” Mora said, giving him a hug. “Did they get home alright?”

“Yeah, _oof,”_ Bucky grunted as Pete swept in for a bone-bruising squeeze. “We gave my mom a cell phone and she called me as soon as she got into the house. She was so excited that it worked.”

That had been a nerve-wracking few hours. Becca had phoned immediately upon returning to campus, but Bucky had been on pins and needles, waiting for his mother to call. When he heard her voice, sounding absolutely fine, he released a breath he felt like he’d been holding since she left. “You’re alright? What did Dad say?” he’d asked.

Freddie had sighed, a little exasperatedly. “Not a thing,” she chuckled. “He looked up from his newspaper for about two seconds when I came in the door, and then he started reading again. I have a feeling that I’ll be getting the silent treatment for a day or two.”

“Promise me that if you need anything, and I mean _anything,_ that you’ll call me or Becca or Steve right away, okay? You have all of our numbers in your contact information.”

“I think you’re worried for nothing, sweetheart,” she said softly. “He’ll grump for a few days and I’ll go about my business like I always do. When he decides to talk about it, I’ll let him get his opinion off his chest, and then I’ll tell him how it’s going to be from now on. You’re my son and I love you; I’m done pretending that I don’t just because he was raised with an antiquated view of the world. In fact, I’m already picking out frames for these lovely photos Steve gave me—the ones with you and he together at the flower show on your birthday are just gorgeous.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” Bucky smiled, moisture pricking at his eyelids, “so just promise me, please? You really don’t know how he’s going to react to all of this.”

“Okay, honey, okay, I promise,” she relented. A few moments later, she said, “I am so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, grinning. “Why’s that?”

“You’ve made a wonderful life for yourself,” his mother replied, “and you’ve done it by being smart and hard-working and by making good choices. I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you’ve chosen someone like Steve to be with; he’s an absolute dear and he so obviously loves you.”

“I haven’t always made the best choices, Mom,” Bucky murmured, swallowing hard, “but I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes.”

“Nobody’s perfect, honey. We do the best we can with what we have. Learning from our mistakes is probably the most that any of us can hope for.”

In the end, the discussion with Bucky’s father went pretty much as well as she thought it would; George told Freddie that he was incredibly disappointed in her decision to go to New York with Becca against his wishes, and Freddie informed him that he could do as he liked, but she was very happy that she had gone and would do so again in a heartbeat. Bucky was her son, she loved him exactly as he was, and she was proud to be his mother.

“I let him know that I would be talking to you often and that I would visit you any chance that I could. He was rather surprised,” she chuckled during their phone conversation later that week. “I’d dare say he was speechless. I’m not sure it’s going to make any difference, but I have to say, it felt good.”

Bucky texted or spoke to his mother and Becca every day, needing to be assured of their continued wellbeing; Becca, who was also doing fine, was absolutely aflutter over which StarkTech internship to apply for. After researching what was offered to those lucky enough to win one of the coveted positions, she was more excited than ever. “Room and board provided in Stark Tower, Bucks,” she enthused. “He has entire floors available for people to stay on site. Think of all the people I could meet! This would look amazing on my resume.”

“He’d be lucky to have you working for him,” Bucky told her. “Just be true to yourself; be honest, be real, and everything will work out like it’s supposed to.”

So now he was back at work, obsessively going over everything that had been done while he was away. He was pleased to see that nothing had burned down during his week off; not that he had really expected the store to be in ruins, but things had a way of slipping when the boss was gone for an extended period.

Nick had been on hand most days to wrangle the other employees; he’d been getting cortisone injections in his knee for a few months, so it wasn’t paining him too badly. “It’s just a band-aid, though,” he said one afternoon while he and Bucky spoke in his office. “I’ll need a full replacement in the next year or two, sooner if it gets really bad again.”

“Well, crap,” Bucky said, frowning. “How long is that going to have you laid up?”

“It depends,” Nick shrugged. “If it’s successful, maybe only a month or so. If not….”

“Do what you have to do,” Bucky assured him. “We’ll keep everything running here.”

“I know you will, son,” Nick smiled.

The rest of the week brought another, far more unpleasant slap of reality. Maria sent him a text, reminding him that they needed to get together to discuss his testimony.

The sinking feeling in Bucky’s gut intensified as he wished, for probably the ten-thousandth time, that the whole ordeal was just over and done with already.

For whatever sick and twisted reason, Brock Rumlow had pleaded guilty to the attack on Steve’s office, but he had decided to fight the charges of attempted kidnapping and assault for his attack on Bucky several months earlier. Both Maria and Phil Coulson, the detective who had become a good friend, had come to see him and Steve at the end of January to tell him the news.

***

_January, several months earlier…._

They sat, stony-faced, as they relayed the information they’d gotten from the DA’s office, who had dealt with Rumlow’s lawyer, a smug-faced ass-kisser named James Wesley.

“When Rumlow didn’t enter a plea for those charges at his arraignment, we figured he was just trying to be as difficult as possible,” Maria sighed. “Looks like he was stalling for time. We’ll get to the bottom of it, but in the meantime, it looks like you’ll need to be prepared to testify against him.”

“Oh,” Bucky had whispered, feeling the blood leaving his face as nausea washed over him. “I—I don’t know if I can do that.”

“We’ll figure something out, I promise,” she told him. “You’re not going up against him alone. We’re all with you.”

“Is there any chance he’ll change his mind?” Steve asked them, taking Bucky’s hand in his and rubbing his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles.

“There’s a chance,” Maria answered, “but it’s not looking very likely. The DA said Wesley was pretty sure of himself.”

“What about the others?” Steve asked. “Sharon, Sitwell, and Rollins?”

“Honestly, this is what makes Rumlow’s behavior look all that more strange,” Coulson said, shaking his head. “Everyone else has pleaded guilty to all charges.”

“Really?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Really,” Maria nodded. She slid some papers across the coffee table toward Bucky and Steve, which they picked up and began perusing. “Jasper Sitwell was a bit player here with no prior record, so he submitted a guilty plea to accepting stolen goods—Grand Larceny in the Fourth Degree. He’s already been sentenced to three years’ probation and is on a Homeland Security watchlist.”

“Sharon Carter,” Phil continued, “who also has no prior record, and in exchange for providing evidence against Rumlow and Rollins, had the charges of aiding and abetting dropped. She has agreed to plead guilty to a lesser charge of conspiracy, which incurs a minimum sentence of two-and-a-half years in prison; with good behavior, she could be out in as few as twenty months with an additional two to five years of probation.”

“Jack Rollins is a repeat violent offender,” Maria said, “charged with breaking and entering, arson, grand larceny, and conspiracy in one case, and attempted kidnapping in another. With the evidence against him, he knew fighting the charges was pointless. He hasn’t been sentenced yet, but he’s looking at twenty-five years minimum—quite possibly more, depending on the judge.”

“When is his sentencing?” Bucky asked, swallowing hard.

Phil checked the file. “In a couple of months. April fifth,” he said.

“Sharon Carter’s is earlier that week,” Maria told them. “April second.”

“Do we have to be at those?” Steve asked, still holding Bucky’s hand.

“Only if you wish to make a statement to the sentencing judge,” Coulson replied. “You can even submit it in writing and have it read into the record if you don’t want to appear in person.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly, “but I don’t know if there’s any point. I have nothing to say to Sharon.”

“You’re under no obligation,” Phil said.

“Is there anything new on Pierce?” Steve inquired.

Maria shook her head. “’Fraid not,” she replied. “Carter is the only one who would claim on the record he was involved; Rumlow and Rollins recanted their earlier stories and refused to name him on record, and Sitwell only dealt with Rumlow and Carter.”

“So Pierce walks away scot-fee,” Steve groused.

“He did lose his position at Hydra Publishing,” Phil reminded him.

“That’s not nearly enough for all the problems he’s caused.”

“What about Brock?” Bucky asked quietly. “When will he be sentenced for Steve’s office?”

Maria picked up his rather sizeable file. “His lawyer requested that his sentencing for the attack on Steve’s office be delayed until after the trial. We think it’s because they want him kept in the County Jail in the meantime rather than State Prison. The DA’s Office okayed it.”

“If Bucky needs to provide testimony against Rumlow, can he do it in writing?” Steve asked.

Both detectives shook their heads as Bucky’s heart sank. “No,” Maria said regretfully. “He needs to be available for cross-examination.”

“We can look into video testimony,” Phil suggested. “Have both lawyers question him off-site, away from Rumlow, then played for the jury.”

“I like that idea,” Bucky nodded quickly. “I can’t stand the thought of having to be in the same room with him.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Maria assured him.

***

So after Bucky and Steve met with the District Attorney, under Tony’s advisement, they had hired the lawyers that he trusted to handle any corporate or civil case that anyone tried to throw at him.

“Their methods are a little unorthodox,” Tony told them one evening over dinner, “but they are also the most perceptive and intuitive lawyers I’ve ever met. I’d swear Matt’s got superpowers if I believed in that kind of thing. He can absolutely handle a criminal case.”

They arrived in Hell’s Kitchen, at the offices of Nelson & Murdock, for their first meeting at the end of January; Karen Page, their office manager, brought them into the small conference room, served them coffee, and then retrieved the two lawyers that Tony had so highly recommended.

Matt Murdock was, in short, a character. He and his partner, Franklin Nelson, were two of the oddest people Bucky had ever met. More than that, though, they were smart, they could read people, and they knew the law inside and out.

If one had never seen the two lawyers work, it was easy to underestimate them; Matt had lost his sight in an accident as a boy and wore red-lensed sunglasses and walked into the courtroom with a white cane. Franklin (“Call me Foggy”) had a soft, baby-faced appearance, seemingly more suited to an elementary school classroom than a criminal court. It was all part of a well-constructed image that lulled opposing counsel into a false sense of security right before they were torn apart in front of a jury.

“Mister Stark—Tony—suggested to us back in November that we familiarize ourselves with the particulars of this case,” Matt explained at that first meeting. “He had a bad feeling that this Rumlow individual would try to cause trouble for you.”

“So the good news is that we’re already up to speed on the case,” Foggy said with a sympathetic smile.

“What’s the bad news?” Bucky asked tiredly. Steve took his hand and held it.

“The bad news is that Tony was right,” Matt sighed. Next to him, Foggy shrugged. “It helps our case that Mister Rollins has already pleaded guilty to all the charges; it’s one more thing Rumlow’s lawyer will have to have an answer for.”

When Bucky tried to ask them about hourly fees and retainer costs, they cut him off before he could even finish a sentence. “Mister Stark has covered all expenses.” Bucky tried to protest, but they refused to hear it. “We handle a lot of cases for StarkTech,” Foggy said. “Honestly, we would consider this a nuisance suit, it’s such a slam-dunk.”

“I wouldn’t call this just a nuisance,” Steve frowned. “It’s quite a bit more than that.”

“The term is nothing to do with you,” Matt said quickly, smacking Foggy in the chest, who then flicked his ear in retaliation. “It just means that Rumlow doesn’t have a legal leg to stand on. There is so much evidence against him that it’s clear he’s only doing this to be a nuisance.”

“Why would he bother?” Steve asked, with a frown. “Doesn’t that mean the judge or whomever will give him an even harsher sentence?”

“Probably,” Foggy nodded.

“Then I don’t under—“

“He’s already facing twenty-five years or more for the break-in at your office. The only reason he has to fight the assault and attempted kidnapping charges is so that Mister Barnes will have to testify in court,” Matt said regretfully. “The law states that he gets to face his accuser.”

“Oh, my god,” Bucky moaned, covering his face with his hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“You can,” Matt disagreed. “It won’t be pleasant, but you can tell your side of the story in front of a jury and bury him. He’ll go away for the rest of his life.”

“What about video testimony?” Steve asked, rubbing his hand slowly across Bucky’s shoulders. “Maria and Phil thought it was a possibility.”

Both Matt and Foggy adopted thoughtful expressions that spoke of their opinion. “It is possible,” Foggy said, “but most judges prefer to hear it first-hand.”

“Just the thought of being in the same room with him…” Bucky trailed off, looking ill.

“Look into the video testimony,” Steve said firmly, before his eyes softened. “Please.”

Matt nodded kindly. “We will.”

They went on to discuss everything that they would do to prepare for the trial, including background investigations on all the people involved. “We have two very good investigators,” Matt explained. “Jessica and Luke are the best we’ve worked with. If there’s anything to find, they’ll find it.”

“We’ll keep you involved every step of the way,” Foggy assured them. “We’ll make sure you’re as ready and prepared as possible.”

***

After leaving the meeting with Matt and Foggy, Bucky was tense and withdrawn. All the way home, any attempt Steve made at conversation, any questions he asked, were met with noncommittal shrugs, hums, or grunts as Bucky continued to stare out the window, his blank expression conveying volumes. Understanding that Bucky had reached one of his rare, non-verbal states, Steve elected to simply hold his hand until they made it home.

Once inside their apartment, they toed off their shoes and Steve gently tugged a rigid Bucky into his arms. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?” Steve asked, wrapping his arms around the little brunet. “Something on your mind is really upsetting you.”

Bucky shook his head slightly, hiding his face against Steve’s chest. “You didn’t sign up for this,” he whispered. “My whole life I’ve been a disaster and now I’m dragging you down with me.”

“Hey, absolutely not,” Steve said firmly. “None of this is your doing, baby doll. It’s not your fault and I’m not going to let you blame yourself for shit other people have done.”

“But—“

“No. No buts.” Steve gave him a good, tight hug and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, and that means I love you every day—not just on the good days where everything goes our way. That means I love you and that I’m here for you on the tough days, too, just like you’ve been here for me.”

The little sniffle didn’t escape unnoticed, and neither did Bucky’s hands, slowly creeping up Steve’s back to clutch at his shirt.

“We’ll get through this together, baby, you’ll see.”

He pulled back slightly to look down at Bucky; his love’s eyes were red-rimmed, his lashes were wet and clumped together, and his bottom lip was trembling. Steve smiled at him and leaned down to kiss him sweetly. “Come with me, honey,” he said, taking Bucky’s hand and leading him down the hall to their room.

Upon entering their bedroom, Steve let go of his hand and turned toward Bucky’s dresser. He opened the drawer with his boyfriend’s pajamas and pulled out a pair of soft flannel pants. “Put these on, Buck. Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.” He left the room and went back down the hall.

Bucky obeyed without comment or question, dropping his jeans and t-shirt into the laundry hamper and slipping on the lounge pants. Steve came back in with one of the cushioned barstools from their kitchen. “There’s my good boy,” Steve smiled. He put the chair down and said, “One more thing and we’re all set.” He entered their bathroom and began opening and closing drawers.

Bucky frowned quizzically, wondering what Steve was doing, when the blond came back out with a large towel, a bottle, and a hairbrush. He set the bottle on the nightstand, spread the towel out on the bed, and turned back to Bucky with a grin, gesturing to the chair. “Have a seat, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, hopping up on to the barstool with his back to his boyfriend. He leaned back against the padded cushion and sighed, his left shoulder starting to ache from the constant tension of the previous few weeks. “You’re not going to try to cut my hair, are you?”

“No, silly,” Steve chuckled. “I’m going to pamper you tonight.”

“Pamper?” Bucky echoed skeptically. “What does this pampering include, might I ask?”

“The first thing I’m going to do, my beautiful boy,” he replied, “is brush your hair.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes brightened hopefully. “Really?”

It was a little known fact that Bucky _adored_ having his hair brushed. He trusted very few people to brush it properly, though; even Natasha was allowed only under extreme circumstances, such as illness or severe emotional distress. Bucky’s favorite was actually Pete, who discovered the brunet’s weakness during the drunken aftermath of a dinner party—and had promised to never tell anyone how Bucky had become so relaxed and boneless that he had ended up falling asleep in Pete’s lap and drooling on his leg. Pete was fascinated by Bucky’s hair and was exceptionally and unexpectedly gentle. Being a good friend, Pete had taken it upon himself to tell Steve about Bucky’s love for hair play and had given Steve detailed lessons on how to do it correctly.

“Really. Just turn around and get comfortable.”

Bucky gave him a small smile and settled back with a deep breath. At the first slow, long, gentle drag of the bristles through his hair, rubbing delicately along his scalp, the brunet moaned and let his head drop back; his eyes fell shut and the pinched look that had plagued his waking hours as of late finally left his features.

Steve grinned as he carefully pulled the brush through his love’s thick tresses, the soft, scratchy, susurration relaxing even to his own ears. He watched as Bucky’s shoulders dropped, his head bobbing slightly with every brush stroke. The muscles in his jaw lost their tension and fell slack, and the furrow between his eyebrows disappeared. As the unhurried minutes passed, he eased into a kind of Zen-like state.

Steve continued until Bucky literally could not hold his head up of his own volition. After he nearly fell forward, jerking himself awake at the last second, Steve set the brush down and scooped the smaller man off the chair. Walking around the side of the bed, Steve laid him down on the towel and then carefully rolled him onto his stomach.

Bucky sighed contentedly, letting Steve arrange his body like a particularly large and loose-limbed rag doll; his arms down by his sides, his incredibly shiny and tangle-free hair swept away from his face. He felt himself sink into the downy softness of the towel-and-duvet-covered mattress, melting under the warmth of Steve’s care.

“Now I’m going to give you a massage,” Steve informed Bucky, picking up the bottle from the nightstand and climbing up onto the bed beside him. “Feel free to fall asleep if you want to,” he murmured, combing his fingers through Bucky’s hair one last time before getting his hands oily. “Just relax, love.”

Bucky had no idea how long Steve rubbed his back; he’d drifted off after just a few minutes of the extraordinarily soft massage. It was clearly more about physical intimacy and comfort than about actually loosening Bucky’s already mushy muscles, though Steve did pay some special attention to Bucky’s notoriously tender left arm and shoulder. The light coconut-and-vanilla-scented oil eased the glide of Steve’s fingers over his skin as they stroked and kneaded and petted and grounded him, lulling him once again into a dream-like stupor.

At some point, he felt Steve lightly touch the bridge of his nose and heard him ask, “Buck? Are you okay?” He’d only smiled sleepily in response. A couple of soft, sweet kisses to his cheek and his forehead were then followed by a whisper of “I love you so much.” A bit later, the mattress dipped next to him as Steve lay down but continued to lightly trail his fingers over Bucky’s skin.

An indeterminate period of time passed before Bucky even felt like opening his eyes; when he did, he found Steve watching him with a warm and tender expression. “Hey,” Bucky murmured, his voice sounding a little scratchy.

“Hey, baby,” Steve responded just as quietly. “How are you?”

“I think you turned my bones to jello,” he replied with a loopy grin.

“Yeah? Feelin’ good?”

“So good, Daddy.”

Steve picked up a tissue and dabbed carefully at Bucky’s eyes. “I was worried for a minute when you started crying.”

“Huh?” Bucky made a confused noise. “I was crying?”

“Little bit,” Steve soothed. “You just smiled at me when I asked if you were okay, though, so I think it was just tension leaking out of your eyes.”

Bucky huffed a relaxed laugh. “That’s a good way to think of it.”

Steve leaned down to kiss his cheek again. “I like it, too.”

“Thank you for pampering me, Stevie.”

“It was absolutely my pleasure, sweetheart.”

***

_Back to the present…._

Right up until the morning of Sharon Carter’s sentencing on April second, Steve had sworn that he had no intention of going. She and her attorneys had reached a plea agreement with the DA’s office in exchange for testimony against Rumlow and Rollins. Rollins had already pleaded guilty to everything as a result, and Rumlow was maintaining his position as a malicious asshole by being as difficult as possible.

Steve realized on that Monday morning, after looking at the clock for the tenth time before ten a.m., that he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on his work until he knew for sure that the hearing was over and done with.

He arrived at the courthouse about twenty minutes before the hearing was set to begin and took a seat at the back of the courtroom, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Sharon and her attorney were already there, seated at the front table, talking quietly. He was checking his phone, texting with Sam while he waited, when someone sat down next to him.

“I had a feeling you’d show up,” Matt Murdock said, folding his white cane and setting it down on the seat beside him.

Steve looked at him with a surprised and almost disbelieving look on his face. “How the hell did you know I was here?”

“Educated guess,” he grinned, facing straight ahead with his ever-present red-lensed sunglasses. When Steve didn’t say anything, Matt continued. “These cases—Carter and Rumlow—are personal attacks on both you and Mister Barnes. For different reasons, yes, but they’re still personal. I figured you would need the closure.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow and shrugged a bit. “Yeah, I guess I can’t argue with that.” He nudged Matt’s elbow with his own. “So why are you here?”

“I hear Miss Carter is prone to emotional outbursts,” he said. “I’m here in case she says something incriminating about Rumlow.”

“You could just get the transcripts, you know,” Steve smiled.

“This is true,” Matt nodded. “But I figured you would be here, and that you wouldn’t bring Mister Barnes with you just in case Miss Carter had one of her aforementioned outbursts. So, mostly, I decided to come and keep you company.”

Steve shook his head, laughing quietly. “Whatever Tony pays you, it’s not enough.”

Matt leaned over to whisper as the bailiff came in to begin the hearing. “Don’t worry, it really is.”

“All rise,” the bailiff intoned, and the judge came in from a side door, taking his seat behind the bench.

The sentencing began immediately, with Sharon sitting at the front with her attorney on one side, and the District Attorney’s representatives on the other side.

“Miss Carter,” the judge began, “your plea of guilty is a result of discussions between the attorney for the government and your attorney. I have not been part of those discussions. Do you understand that?”

From the back of the room, Steve could just barely make out Sharon’s murmured, “Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge then turned to speak to the Assistant from the District Attorney’s Office. “Please summarize the important terms of the plea agreement.”

What followed was a mass of legal jargon that Steve couldn’t understand, though Matt was leaning forward slightly, paying very close attention. When the ADA was done, the judge looked over to Sharon’s table again and spoke to her attorney. “Do you agree with that summary of the guilty plea agreement?” he asked.

Sharon’s attorney, a woman with short, dark hair and a clear voice, said, “Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge then asked Sharon and her attorney a few more, very pointed questions so that there would be no misunderstanding whatsoever going forward.

“Are you confident that your client fully understood the agreement before she signed it?”

“Do you believe this agreement is in your client’s best interest?”

“Do you also agree with those statements in the guilty plea agreement?”

“Are you confident that your attorney fully explained the agreement to you before you signed it?”

“Do you want to live by the terms of that agreement?”

“Has anyone tried to force you or threatened you in any way to get you to plead guilty?”

Up until this point, every question had been answered quickly and succinctly; at this inquiry, however, Sharon actually hesitated. Matt’s head tilted, just slightly, as if he was listening very closely. Finally, she responded. “No, Your Honor.”

“She’s lying,” Matt whispered. Steve looked at him sharply.

The judge didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with her answer, though, so he continued. “Has anybody done anything you think is improper, illegal or unethical in order to get you to plead guilty?”

Sharon’s answer came faster this time. “No, Your Honor.”

“Except for what has already been stated here or what is in the written agreement, are there any other promises of any kind that have been made to you to get you to plead guilty?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Something’s not right,” Matt murmured.

“Are there any other statements to be read into record?” the judge asked the ADA, who shook his head. “No? Moving on.”

“Miss Carter, please stand.”

Sharon and her attorney both stood up at the defendant’s table, and Steve could see her clearly for the first time. Five months in jail had taken an obvious toll on her complexion, which now seemed pale and waxy, but otherwise it was clear that she had taken great pains to make the most of her appearance in court today; her hair had been trimmed and styled and her clothes were professional and fit her well. Though he couldn’t see her legs, Steve was fairly certain her left foot was twitching with nerves.

“It is the judgment of this Court that the defendant, Sharon Carter, shall be and is hereby sentenced to a term of imprisonment of four years for pleading guilty to the felony crime of conspiracy. As a technical matter, the sentence must be expressed on the judgment in months. Four years is equivalent to forty-eight months. This will be reduced by the five months already served, bringing the remaining sentence to forty-three months. Your first parole hearing will be held twenty-four months from today.

“I will also be imposing a supervised release of five years. Miss Hogarth, do you have any requests?”

Sharon’s attorney spoke up. “Yes, Your Honor. As Miss Carter has no prior convictions and no history of violence, we respectfully request that Your Honor recommend to the Department of Corrections that Miss Carter be remanded to Taconic Correctional Facility, as it is closer to her home of Manhattan.”

The judge lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “Conspiracy to commit a violent crime is in itself a violent act, Miss Hogarth, and I’ve heard about Miss Carter’s time in the County Jail. I will recommend to the D.O.C. that Miss Carter be remanded to an appropriate facility.”

Hogarth’s face dropped a bit as the words sunk in. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“That doesn’t sound good for Sharon,” Steve whispered, leaning toward Matt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Matt replied. “Hogarth sounded surprised.”

The judge looked at both tables one more time before asking, “Anything else? No? We are adjourned.” He rapped his gavel on the bench, ending the proceedings.

Two bailiffs came forward to stand by Sharon, clearly waiting to take her back into custody as the judge left the courtroom. She turned around and looked Steve right in the eyes as he and Matt got to their feet. Her expression morphed from carefully blank to furious in two seconds flat.

“This is all _your_ fault, Steve,” she hissed, just loud enough to be heard over the hum of the courtroom. “All of it.”

Her attorney, Miss Hogarth, tried to shush her; Sharon kept talking, though, even as Steve and Matt turned and headed for the door without looking back. Other spectators in the courtroom looked around, wondering what was happening.

“Don’t worry!” she yelled at their backs as the bailiffs put handcuffs on her and led her away. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

Matt unfolded his cane and prodded Steve with it. “Keep walking, don’t look at her,” he advised.

***

“So what do you think?” Steve asked as they left the courthouse.

“That was interesting,” Matt said. “It wasn’t a harsh sentence, not really, but Hogarth sounded like she expected Sharon to receive better treatment.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, watching as Matt took the steps in front of the building with a familiar ease, tapping his cane slowly back and forth. “Doesn’t sound like Sharon’s learned a damn thing in the last few months, though.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but is blaming other people for her mistakes her go-to strategy?”

“Absolutely,” Steve nodded. “It’s always someone else’s fault when things don’t work out the way she wants them to.”

“Well, at least now she’s got the better part of two to four years to consider how that type of thinking has worked out for her,” Matt smiled. He stopped and reached out, patting Steve’s shoulder. “This part is over. Rollins’ sentencing is later this week. I’ll be here for that as well. I might be able to get information to help Mister Barnes.”

“Not me,” Steve shook his head. “I’ve never seen or spoken to that guy before. He was just Rumlow’s friend, hired muscle.”

“True,” Matt agreed. “I’m going to head back to the office and talk to Foggy, see if we can find out if anyone was visiting Miss Carter while she was in County. Something about her answers felt false to me. It’s just not sitting right.”

“Do you think someone forced her to plead guilty?” Steve asked. “Pierce, maybe?”

“Not forced, per se,” Matt said, “but maybe promised her something in exchange.”

“That would make sense,” Steve mumbled, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “Shit.”

“Regardless,” Matt assured him, “she’s on her way to prison. I’ll make sure that she isn’t allowed any contact with you, Mister Barnes, or either of your workplaces.”

“Thanks, Matt. I appreciate that.”

“Not a problem, Steve. I’ll talk to you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, feels, and Foggy. (I love Foggy Nelson, BTW. The man is a precious bean and must be protected at all cost.) If you haven't seen Daredevil, I highly recommend it.
> 
> I hope to get back to a more regular updating schedule, though it may not happen until school gets out for real in a month and a half. I swear I'll do my best. :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone for being so encouraging--I really do appreciate it.
> 
> I'll see you soon! <3


	5. I'm Not Gonna Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where the first major plot line swings into high gear. Lots of cahooting going on!

The sentencing for Jack Rollins at the end of the week took quite a bit longer. Due to the number of charges that he’d pleaded guilty to as well as his status as a repeat offender, there was a lot of legal ground to cover.

Neither Steve nor Bucky sat in on the sentencing; Matt and Foggy both attended with their assistant Karen, who took notes on everything that was said. Rollins had refused to testify against Rumlow, which was disappointing but not altogether surprising.

In the end, despite pleading guilty to all five counts—breaking and entering, arson, grand larceny, conspiracy, and attempted kidnapping—his violent criminal history was the biggest factor in the judge’s decision. Rollins was sentenced to forty years in a maximum security prison, with a minimum of twenty-five years to be served before the possibility of parole.

They called Steve and Bucky with the information, happy to be passing some good news along. “This is a longer sentence than we were expecting,” Matt told them over the conference call. “The minimum of twenty-five years is also very good for our case. It might push Rumlow into seeking a plea deal.”

“We also have some interesting tidbits to share about Miss Carter,” Foggy said. “Her lawyer asked for her to be remanded to Taconic, which is a medium security prison in Bedford Hills, because it’s closer to Manhattan, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, remembering the lawyer’s words.

“Apparently the Department of Corrections didn’t care about that,” he told them. “They’ve sent her to Albion Correctional Facility, which is practically in Canada.”

“Oh, wow,” Bucky blurted with surprise. “Did they say why?”

“They don’t have to,” Matt shrugged. “Her lawyer can request a transfer to Taconic, but it will be a while before they even schedule the hearing. In the meantime, she will be very far away and allowed no direct contact with you—no calls, no letters, nothing. Anything she wants to send you has to go through us—and we’ve refused to accept.”

“I consider that _very_ good news,” Bucky mumbled, and Steve nudged him with a smile.

“It is,” Steve agreed.

“There’s more,” Foggy added. “We checked the visitor’s log at the County Jail to see if anyone besides Hogarth or her assistants had come to see her, and we found a name. Benjamin Donovan. He visited her twice.”

“Who’s that?” Bucky asked.

“He is a _very_ expensive lawyer,” Matt replied. “Seeing as he wasn’t representing Miss Carter, and he’s not part of Hogarth’s firm, we don’t know why he was there.”

“We’ll have Jess and Luke, our investigators, look into it,” Foggy assured them. “They’re extremely good at research—and at getting information other people don’t want us to have.”

“We’ll let you know what they find out. In the meantime,” Matt said, wrapping up the phone call, “we’re submitting our video testimony request. Not sure if we’ll hear back before we see you next week, but there’s always a chance.”

“Until next week, then.”

***

The following Wednesday morning, Bucky went to the offices of Nelson and Murdock to discuss what they would cover with his testimony. He stopped and picked up lunch first, Vinnie packing up a nice variety of sandwiches for him to take. The Uber dropped him off at just past noon, and he walked in, heading into their little conference room when Karen told him they were waiting for him.

Bucky walked in just as the two lawyers set down the last of their case files on the six-foot long, heavy wooden table.

“Hey, guys,” Bucky greeted them, setting the paper bag on the table. “I brought food.”

Foggy perked up noticeably. “Please say it’s Colletta’s.”

Bucky grinned. “It’s Colletta’s.”

Foggy pumped his fist in victory as Bucky pulled a sandwich out and tossed it to him. “Cold cuts will never let you down.”

Matt smiled, sitting down at the table. “How’s Vinnie doing these days?”

“Great, as always. He says hi.”

“I need to stop by,” Matt mused, accepting the food that Bucky slid across to the table. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“It is a little out of the way from the Kitchen to the Heights,” Bucky smiled.

“ _So_ worth it, though,” Foggy moaned after taking a big bite of roast beef. “Italian meats and cheeses are the best, swear to Thor. Did I ever tell you that my mom wanted me to be a butcher?”

“You might have mentioned it,” Bucky murmured, unwrapping his turkey and cheese.

“A few dozen times,” Matt added under his breath.

“Interesting news on Benjamin Donovan,” Foggy told him after wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Jess went straight to Jeri Hogarth to ask about it.”

“What?” Bucky asked, surprised. “Seriously?”

“Jess and Hogarth have something of a complicated history,” Matt told him. “I would call it love-hate, but I’m not sure they actually hate each other.”

“So Jess went into Hogarth’s office and straight-up asked her why Donovan had visited Miss Carter in jail,” Foggy grinned. “Hogarth didn’t know. Had no idea.”

“Really.”

“Really,” Matt nodded. “Carter never told her, and now Hogarth is _pissed._ That’s bad news for Donovan.”

“Jeri’ll rip him a new one if she thinks he tampered with her client,” Foggy added.

“She’ll also dig relentlessly until she finds out what’s going on,” Matt grinned, “which is good news for us. Free investigative services.”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, taking a bite of his sandwich and nodding distractedly.

They sat, eating quietly for a few minutes before Matt spoke again. “I’m a little surprised that Steve didn’t come with you today.”

Bucky frowned, chewing slowly to give himself time to respond. He had known the point of today’s meeting, and had known it was going to be really unpleasant, having to rehash the horrible things Brock had done to him; he had told Steve point-blank that he didn’t want him there. That hadn’t gone over very well.

_“I don’t want you to hear this,” Bucky had stated firmly._

_“Buck,” Steve had argued, “nothing you need to say is going to change how I feel about you. You know that, right? It doesn’t matter to me.”_

_“It matters to me,” Bucky replied, his chest starting to feel tight. “I don’t want to wonder if you’re thinking about these things when we’re together. I don’t want you to look at me and see him—“_

_“Sweetheart, I would never—“_

_“Please, Steve,” Bucky implored, tears pricking at his eyelids. “Please.”_

_“Okay, baby, okay,” Steve had relented, pulling Bucky in for a hug. “I don’t want to upset you, honey, I swear. I just want to be there for you.”_

_“I know,” Bucky nodded against Steve’s chest. “I know.”_

When it became apparent that Bucky wasn’t going to respond anytime soon, Matt kept talking. “We’ve known Tony for quite a few years now.”

Bucky continued to frown, now wondering at Matt’s sudden change in subject.

“We started handling cases for him not too long after his parents died,” Matt went on. Foggy nodded, still eating his sandwich. “It was a bad time for him, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,” Bucky said softly.

“People came out of the woodwork from all over, and Tony made a lot of mistakes. Some of those mistakes were pretty bad,” Matt said, taking a sip of water.

“Why are you telling me this?” Bucky asked, completely bewildered.

“We’ve been hearing about Steve for as long as we’ve known Tony,” Matt said firmly. “Steve never wavered in his loyalty; no matter how bad Tony screwed up, no matter what trouble he got himself into, Steve never once left him to deal with the fallout alone.”

“Steve’s an amazing guy,” Bucky said, his throat feeling a bit tight.

“He is,” Matt agreed, “and he loves you.”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly. “I know. I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Matt stated flatly, and Bucky looked at him with surprise. “Steve. Loves. You—just as much as he loves Tony, albeit in a different way. There’s no way he’s going to leave you to deal with this on your own.”

“Deal with—?” Bucky asked, shaking his head, not understanding.

“Rumlow hasn’t changed his mind, even after Rollins’s sentencing,” Foggy said, watching Bucky carefully. “The trial date has been set for May fourteenth.”

“You’ll be testifying, and you’ll need Steve there to support you,” Matt continued. “I know you want to keep him away from this, but it’s just not possible.”

“The judge has been assigned. His name is Leland Owlsley,” Foggy said, showing Bucky a picture. “Do you know him?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. Never seen him before.”

“We’re going to ask everyone you’ve put on your witness list,” Matt said, “just so you know. We want to be sure there’s no conflict here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky nodded, exhaling shakily.

Everyone that Bucky knew that had first-hand knowledge of his problems with Brock—Steve, Nat, Clint, Nick, Pete, even Mister Colletta—was going to be called as a witness. They had all been completely supportive, agreeing immediately to help in any way they could. It was going to be an utter shitshow, and Bucky hated every single thing about it. That being said, he knew there was no other way to go about this; this was necessary to put Brock away for good.

“What about your family?” Foggy asked. “Do we need to talk to them about—“

“No,” Bucky shook his head emphatically. “They don’t know about any of this—hell, they don’t even know Brock exists.” At their surprised expressions, he explained. “My sister was barely out of high school when this happened. I’d only spoken to my mother a handful of times over the past few years until last month and I haven’t spoken to my father since he kicked me out.” He huffed a bitter sounding laugh. “My friends and co-workers are really all I have.”

“And they are more than enough,” Matt assured him. “These people have your back, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded, knowing Matt’s words were true.

“We need to talk to you about your testimony today,” Foggy said.

“I know,” Bucky replied. “That’s why I’m here.”

“We want to discuss more than the content,” Foggy said softly. “The judge approved our request for video.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky nodded, relieved. “That’s great.”

“We think it would be a mistake,” Matt stated bluntly.

“What? Why?”

Matt adopted a thoughtful expression. “To be totally honest, we believe testifying in person would be better for our case.”

“Better?” Bucky frowned incredulously. “How do you figure that?”

“You’ve got an incredibly expressive and earnest face, not to mention that you’re very good-looking,” Matt said. Bucky’s eyebrows crept up his forehead.

“I told him,” Foggy admitted, shrugging. “You really are appealing, in a sweet and vulnerable kind of way, to more than one demographic. Karen says she wants to cuddle you like a teddy bear.”

“Point being, If you testify in person, the jury is going to see your reactions first-hand; that will be far more damning for Rumlow than a video. It will have a much greater impact.”

“How much of an impact will it have if I throw up?” Bucky asked, only half-joking.

“Keep your reactions genuine,” Matt advised.

“If I have to look at Brock, I may genuinely puke.”

“But do you understand what we’re saying?” Foggy asked. “Videotaped testimony will allow the jury to maintain a distance between your words and Rumlow’s actions. If you’re right there, in the same room, there is no buffer. They’ll see your emotions and his first-hand, and that is invaluable to your case.”

Bucky took a deep breath, the squirming discomfort in his gut multiplying tenfold at the idea of having to face a room full of strangers while talking about— _describing_ —what Brock had done to him. He pushed what was left of his sandwich away, not able to even look at food at the moment.

“Yeah, I hear what you’re saying,” he sighed. He looked back and forth between the two lawyers, the sympathy clear in their expressions. “If I need to take a break when I’m testifying, do you think that will be a problem?”

“Most judges have no problem with that,” Matt said. “They don’t have any interest in excessive drama in their courtrooms. If you’re having a tough time, they’ll give you a break.”

Bucky looked down at his hands, his fingers twining together. “And Steve will be there with me?” he asked in a small voice.

“You know the answer to that,” Matt replied. “He won’t leave you alone for a second, and we’ll prepare you as best we can.”

Bucky was quiet for a minute or so, just trying to keep his rapidly beating heart under control. He knew they were telling him the truth, and that they only wanted the best for him.

Finally he nodded and said, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Let’s do this.”

“Okay,” Matt said. “So let’s talk about what happened while you were with this bastard, and we’ll work out the best way to put him away for good.”

***

Bucky left Nelson & Murdock, feeling drained. He brought the remainder of his sandwich with him to work, hoping he’d feel hungry enough to eat it during his dinner break. He had plenty of time until his shift at the bookstore started, so he decided to walk to the train rather than take an Uber across the bridge, using the opportunity to breathe and try to clear his head a little.

When he reached the bookstore, he couldn’t help the little smile that came to his face; the little bell over the door that he never got tired of hearing, the smell of Clint’s coffee and Nat’s pastries, the warm greetings from his coworkers—this place was safe, it was home, just as much as the apartment where he lived with Steve.

He stowed his jacket and wallet, putting his phone into his back pocket and his sandwich in the refrigerator, and then he clocked in. Hopefully it would be a busy day, so he wouldn’t have to think too much about the meeting he’d just had.

Or how he was going to explain his decision to Steve.

***

His shift passed pleasantly enough—he talked to Clint for a few minutes about his meeting with Matt and Foggy, and his friend agreed, reluctantly, that testifying in person would definitely have a bigger impact. “You do what you think is best,” Clint told him. “We’ll all be there for you.”

Despite there being no real problems to deal with at work, Bucky just couldn’t let go of the tension that was stiffening up his shoulders; he was on edge for his whole shift. He ended up not eating dinner because his stomach was tied up in knots.

Steve arrived at closing time to bring him home, and Bucky kept quiet about his meeting until Steve brought it up. Maybe that made him a little bit of a coward, but he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Once they got home, though, his time was up.

“So how did it go today?” Steve asked, hugging Bucky close after taking off their coats and shoes. “Did Matt and Foggy have any news about the video testimony request?”

“Um,” Bucky hesitated, “sort of.”

“Sort of?” Steve asked. “How so?”

“The judge approved the request—“

“That’s great!”

“—but we’ve decided not to do that.”

“What?” Steve asked, confused, backing up and looking at him, his big hands curled around Bucky’s upper arms. “You’re not going to testify?”

“No, I’m still testifying,” Bucky said nervously. “But I’m, uh, I’m doing it live. In the courtroom.”

“You can’t be serious,” Steve responded, frowning. His arms dropped to his side.

“Matt thinks it’ll be more effective if I’m there, in front of the jury, and—“ Bucky began.

“In front of the jury and in front of _Rumlow,_ too,” Steve argued. “This is exactly what he wants.”

“I think Matt is right,” Bucky persisted.

“This is the only reason Rumlow decided to fight the charges, Buck—so that he could force you to face him in a courtroom!” Steve said, clearly upset.

“But he’s not forcing me, Steve. I’m choosing to do this!” Bucky replied, his eyes flashing angrily.

“You’re _choosing_ to be in the same room with him, when you don’t have to be? Why? You feel sick every time you have to think about him,“ Steve said.

“Exactly!” Bucky said, his hands gesturing wildly. “The jury needs to see that reaction, to see how much he hurt me, and they won’t if I’m in a safe place, talking in front of a camera.”

“This is a terrible idea!” Steve shouted. “You’re already having trouble sleeping, and now you’re going to put yourself through hell for no reason?”

“There is a reason!” Bucky shouted back. “To show him that I’m not scared of him and that he has no power over me anymore, that I can stand up for myself and do what needs to be done to put him away. I need to prove to myself that I can do this; that I’m not weak, that I’m never going to let anyone control my life ever again!”

“No one is trying to control your life, Bucky!”

“Really? Aren’t you trying to tell me what to do _right now?_ ” Bucky yelled.

Steve paused, his face red, but getting paler every second. Quietly he asked, “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to control your life?”

“Why not? Every other man in my life has!” Bucky screamed at him.

For a few seconds, they both stood, staring at each other with wide eyes, breathing heavily. Bucky swallowed hard then, and his eyes darted away. “I need to get out of here,” he said softly, walking to the front door.

“Buck, wait,” Steve said, following after him. “I didn’t mean—“

“No, I can’t be here right now,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he grabbed his jacket, phone, wallet, keys, and sunglasses, and slid his feet back into his shoes. “I need to be alone for a while.”

“Where—“ Steve began.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Bucky said, opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him.

Steve stood there frozen, looking at the door, wondering what the hell had just happened. After about twenty seconds, he raced to pull his shoes on, grabbing his wallet and keys as well. He ran out into the hallway and waited for the elevator, agonizing as each second passed. When it finally arrived and Steve made it down to the lobby, he dashed out the front door, looking up and down the sidewalk for any glimpse of wavy, brunet hair.

He couldn’t see him anywhere. Bucky was gone.

***

Despite the fact that it was dark outside, Bucky put on his sunglasses while he was in the elevator, knowing his eyes were already red and damp. He turned off his phone, and kept his head down as he walked through the lobby, trying not to break into a run when he heard the elevator behind him.

Outside, he walked quickly down the street and around the corner, looking back just as Steve burst out onto the sidewalk and start looking around wildly. He ducked behind a building, leaning against the cool brick, trying not to cry.

Goddammit, why did this keep happening? Why did he always put himself in this position? Another problem he couldn’t deal with, so he was running away.

After a minute or so, Bucky peeked around the corner again. There was no sign of Steve, so he’d either gone the other way or he’d gone back inside their building. Keeping his head down, Bucky started walking to the train station.

By the time he reached mid-town, he was exhausted. It was late; he had considered going to Nat and Clint’s house, but he didn’t want to disturb them or drag them into his mess. _Again,_ he thought to himself. Besides, he had an appointment with Doctor Banner in the morning. Walking through the Tower lobby, he nodded at the security guards, who looked confused to see him there, alone and at such a late hour, but, since they knew him, they didn’t ask any questions. Scanning his card and staggering into the elevator, he said, “Can you take me to our suite, please, JARVIS?”

“Certainly, Mister Barnes. I wasn’t expecting you this evening,” JARVIS replied.

“I wasn’t expecting to be here,” Bucky said, his voice breaking. A big tear escaped, rolling down his face.

“Are you alright, Mister Barnes?” the A.I. asked, sounding concerned.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, crying harder. “I think I just ruined everything.”

“Would you like me to contact Mister Rogers?” JARVIS inquired.

“No!” Bucky blurted. Taking a breath, he said, “No, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I just need to be alone for a while.”

The elevator arrived at their floor and the doors opened. The front door to their suite popped ajar and Bucky walked inside, leaning against it heavily to shut it.

It was so quiet. Only a few lights had turned on, JARVIS seeming to understand that Bucky would want it kept dim.

Sliding down to the floor, Bucky pulled his knees up and rested his forehead on them, and he cried.

***

Steve didn’t know what to do; he wanted to give Bucky the space he needed, but he was so worried about him. Bucky had turned off his phone, so Steve couldn’t even check his ‘Find Friends’ to see where he was. He felt completely helpless.

He checked his Uber app, but saw immediately that Bucky hadn’t used their joint account. He then drove over to Nat and Clint’s house, but there were no lights on inside. He sat in front for a while anyway, hoping that Bucky would show up. When more than enough time had passed, and it became clear that Bucky wasn’t coming, he drove slowly home, checking the streets for any sign of his boyfriend.

He sent several texts, asking Bucky to just let him know that he was okay. He lay in their bed, alone, waiting for a response for what felt like hours, until he fell into a horribly uneasy and restless sleep.

***

After several long, draining minutes, Bucky picked his head up. The knees of his pants were soaked from his tears, and his head was pounding. Pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled into the kitchen, stopping at the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

Wandering back into the bedroom, he looked around. It just felt wrong to be here without Steve, like he didn’t belong. Feeling more tears threatening, he took a drink of water. He went into the bathroom and found some over-the-counter painkillers. He swallowed down a couple of capsules and brushed his teeth, before taking off his coat, shoes and pants and laying down in the big, empty bed.

“JARVIS?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding small and sad.

“Yes, Mister Barnes?” JARVIS replied.

“Can you wake me up at eight a.m., please?”

“Certainly, Mister Barnes.” A few seconds later, the A.I. said, “Your phone is currently turned off, Mister Barnes.”

“I know,” Bucky responded quietly. “I just want to be left alone.”

There was another pause, and JARVIS replied, “Very well, Mister Barnes. Please try to get some rest.”

Bucky sobbed, burying his face in the pillow, imagining that he could still smell Steve on the linens.

***

As soon as Steve woke up from his two or three broken hours of sleep, he called Nat, knowing she would be awake early. “Is Bucky there?” he asked, his voice sounding completely trashed.

“What?” she responded, and he could hear her jaw clenching. “Why would he be here? What happened?”

“So he’s not there,” Steve sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I need to find him.”

“What happened, Steve?” she asked again, her voice rising.

“I fucked up,” Steve said, full of self-loathing. “We had an argument, and he left. He’s turned his phone off and I don’t know where he is, and I’m so worried about him, Nat,” Steve said, his voice cracking at the end.

“Okay, okay, let’s look at this calmly. Today’s Thursday,” Nat said, the volume of her voice dropping. “Doesn’t he have an appointment with Doctor Banner today? His office in mid-town, right?”

“The Tower. He must have gone to the Tower,” Steve said, covering his face with his hand. “Oh, my god, he walked to the train station and went to mid-town after midnight. Jesus.”

“Is there any way to check if he went there?” Nat asked.

“Yeah, I can check with security,” Steve said. “Nat? If he calls you, or comes to see you, can you please ask him to call me? I—“ Steve swallowed hard, “I understand if he doesn’t want to see me or talk to me, but I need to know he’s okay.”

“Sure, Steve,” Nat said, sounding more understanding than Steve had expected or felt he deserved. “And you let me know when you find him, okay?”

“Sure, Nat,” he said. “Thanks.”

After hanging up, Steve called Tower security and asked if Bucky had used his card to get into the private elevator. Sure enough, at just after one a.m., Bucky went upstairs to their suite. Steve sighed in relief, thanking them for the information. After he hung up, he sent Nat a text to tell her yes, Bucky went to the Tower and arrived safely. She sent him a thumbs-up emoji in return.

Then Steve sent Bucky another text, even though he still hadn’t turned his phone on. _Please call me. We need to talk._

***

“Bucky, what’s going on today?” Bruce asked, seeing the evidence of Bucky’s sleepless night; the shadows under his eyes and the flat, almost emotionless look on his face. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, shaking his head as they sat down. At Bruce’s concerned expression, he said, “Steve and I had a big fight last night.”

“And by ‘fight,’ you mean…” Bruce trailed off, encouraging Bucky to elaborate.

“We were yelling at each other, and I said some pretty horrible things,” Bucky admitted, exhaling a shuddering breath. “I walked out. Spent the night at the Tower.”

“What were you arguing about?”

“I told him that I was going to testify against Brock in court,” Bucky said quietly. “He doesn’t want me to.”

“That’s a pretty big reversal of your previous position,” Bruce commented. Bucky nodded dispassionately, so Bruce went on. “Did he say why he doesn’t want you to?”

“He thinks I’m giving in to Brock, that I’m letting him force me into facing him. He said that I’m putting myself through hell for no reason.”

“Did you explain to him why you feel you need to do this?”

“Yeah, I tried to, but—“ Bucky stopped talking.

“But what?” Bruce asked.

“He wasn’t listening, and I just got so mad. I’m so tired of people telling me what to do, trying to control me,” Bucky whispered.

“Is that what you think Steve was doing?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” Bucky said immediately, and then he sighed. “I don’t know.”

“People who habitually subjugate others usually do it to feel powerful,” Bruce said. “Does that sound like Steve to you?”

“Well, no,” Bucky whispered.

“Steve’s concerns about your testimony—were they about him? Or were they about you?” Bruce asked.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked.

“You said that Steve doesn’t want you to testify in court because you’ll have to face Mister Rumlow, is that right?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky shuddered. “Just thinking about it makes me queasy.”

“Do you think that was what he meant when he told you that you’ll be putting yourself through hell?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, but Matt—the lawyer—thinks it will be more powerful, more effective, if I do it in person,” Bucky said.

“I understand why you would choose to do that, no matter how uncomfortable it might be,” Bruce nodded. “But Steve’s concerns were all about you, is that correct? Your feelings, your wellbeing?”

“Um, yeah,” Bucky said, frowning.

“So it seems to me to not be so much about controlling you; it sounds to me like he’s scared for you. I think he’s concerned that you’re going to be in a situation where you’re likely to be emotionally distressed, having to talk about a traumatic event in front of the person who hurt you, and he wants to protect you from that,” Bruce said, sitting back and folding his hands in his lap. “That being said, of course, it is still your decision.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

“Have you spoken to Steve since last night?” Bruce asked.

Bucky shook his head. “I turned my phone off when I left our place. Haven’t looked at it since.”

“Did you tell him where you were going?” Bruce asked.

Bucky shook his head again.

“Do you think he might be concerned about you?”

Bucky shrugged.

“Bucky,” Bruce said in his no-nonsense tone. “You love Steve, and he loves you. Are you not calling him to punish him—or to punish yourself?”

A tear rolled down Bucky’s cheek. “After what I said last night, I’m too scared to call him.”

“What are you scared of, Bucky?” Bruce asked patiently, handing his patient a box of tissues.

Bucky wiped his eyes, his hands falling into his lap. “I’m scared that he’s decided he’s had enough, that he’s tired of dealing with me and my problems.”

“Has he given you any indication that that is the case?”

Bucky shrugged again, his bottom lip quivering. “No,” he said finally, “but—“

Bruce waited for a few seconds before prodding him. “But what?”

“Steve deserves so much better than me,” the younger man whispered.

“You’re being far too hard on yourself. You’re a good, kind person who’s currently under a tremendous amount of stress,” Bruce said.

“I’ve brought him nothing but trouble.”

“Is that really true?” Bruce asked, smiling kindly.

“It feels true.”

“It’s difficult, isn’t it,” Bruce said softly, “when our own thoughts lie to us?” Bucky met his eyes briefly before nodding. “Not having slept is exacerbating these feelings, no doubt. So how about we discuss the things we know are true?”

They spent the rest of the hour discussing times when Bucky had been under someone else’s control; what had happened, how it made Bucky feel, and how to recognize elements of subjugation. It made him so angry to realize how easily Brock had overpowered him—physically and emotionally. He’d been in an extremely vulnerable position—severely depressed due to his father’s actions—and Brock had used and manipulated him for his own purposes.

It also made him see how Steve’s words the night before weren’t really an attempt to control him. Bucky had been feeling so uneasy about his testimony and what he had to do that he had jumped all over the disagreement and assumed that Steve, like other men in Bucky’s past, was trying to tell him what to do.

He went back to the Tower after his appointment, knowing he needed to contact Steve at some point; he just wasn’t ready yet. He turned on his phone and saw the numerous texts that Steve had sent, asking him to check in and let Steve know he was okay. The last one, saying simply, _Please call me. We need to talk_ , made his stomach hurt. He had to call Steve back to apologize, but first—he had a lot of anger built up that he needed to get out, and Tony’s gym had some large punching bags that were calling his name.

***

Steve had sent several texts, which Bucky hadn’t answered.

Not knowing what else to do, he went to work; at least there, at his office, he was closer to the Tower. Steve checked his ‘Find Friends’ late in the morning and saw that Bucky had finally turned his phone on and was at the Tower; it was good news that he had turned his phone on, but he hadn’t gone home to Brooklyn or answered any of his texts, which was…not good news.

He tried to throw himself into his work, hoping for a distraction, but when he looked at that day’s schedule, he saw that nearly everything he had planned involved the zero issue of _The Winter Soldier._ His shoulders slumped, a large lump forming in his throat as he looked at the drawings that so resembled the man he loved.

After several hours of listening to Steve sigh—loudly—Peter got desperate. Peggy wasn’t there that day, and Steve was absolutely miserable. Peter begged Sam to do something.

Sam sat, listening, as Steve told him everything that had happened. Finally he said, “Dude, go find your man and talk to him. You’re not getting anything done like this, and your employees can’t take any more of your hangdog face.”

Steve agreed with him; he wasn’t getting anything accomplished. After apologizing to both Sam and Peter, he drove to the Tower. Getting into the elevator, he asked, “JARVIS? Do you know where Bucky is?”

JARVIS responded, “Mister Barnes is in the private gymnasium, Mister Rogers.”

“Can you take me to him, please?” Steve asked.

“I can, but I feel that I should warn you—Mister Barnes is exceptionally agitated at the moment.”

“Is he alright?” Steve asked, worried.

“Physically, Mister Barnes appears to be well,” JARVIS replied. “When he arrived last night, however, he did request to be left alone, and he has not rescinded that request.”

The elevator doors opened and immediately Steve could hear Bucky singing—badly—at the top of his lungs:

_“—it, you put me on  
I even fell for that stupid love song  
Yeah, yeah  
Since you been gone_

_How come I'd never hear you say  
I just want to be with you?  
Guess you never felt that way—_“

As JARVIS unsuccessfully attempted to get Bucky’s attention, Steve walked further into the gym and peeked around a corner, where Tony had the speed bags and large punching bags lined up; Bucky was there, absolutely whaling on one of the heavy bags. He was drenched with sweat, just punching and kicking the bag repeatedly. There was no technique involved here; he was clearly just expending his rage on an inanimate object that wouldn’t fight back.

He had his wireless ear buds in, and he was singing angrily, grunting with every hit and every kick; almost snarling the words that were cutting into Steve as he stood there, each syllable feeling like a punch to his gut.

“ _But since you been gone  
I can breathe for the first time  
I'm so moving on  
Yeah, yeah  
Thanks to you  
Now I get, I get what I want  
Since you been gone—_“

Interspersed between the lyrics, Bucky was muttering angrily, “Think you can force me to do anything? Think again, _asshole,_ ” and, “I’m _done_ with you, you fucking jerk. You don’t get to control me.”

He remained unaware of what was happening around him as Steve backed away, returning to the elevator as his throat closed up.

“ _You had your chance, you blew it_  
 _Out of sight, out of mind_  
 _Shut your mouth, I just can't take it—“_

Right after Steve got in the elevator and punched the button for the garage level, Bucky stopped singing.

He heard Bucky ask, “What, Jay?” and saw him look around the corner toward the elevator, just as the doors closed.

***

Bucky was screeching, full-force, when JARVIS suddenly cut off his tunes and was speaking to him through his ear buds. “Mister Barnes, you should know that you have a visitor.”

“What, Jay?” Bucky asked, breathing heavily and slightly disoriented. He heard the elevator doors, and peered around the corner just as they slid shut.

“JARVIS, who was that?” Bucky asked, confused. He leaned over and braced his hands on his knees, panting and dripping sweat onto the padded floor. He took out his ear buds and shoved them into his pocket with his phone.

“That was Mister Rogers,” the A.I. replied over the building’s PA system.

“What?” Bucky asked again, utterly bewildered and exhausted. “If it was Steve, why did he leave?”

“Mister Rogers was hesitant to disturb you, as you had requested quite adamantly last night to be left alone,” JARVIS responded.

“So,” Bucky huffed, hurt that Steve hadn’t spoken to him, “where is he going now?”

“He is returning to the parking garage, so I must assume that he is leaving the premises.”

“But—why? Why would he come up here to see me and then leave without even saying anything?” he asked, before he stopped short. “JARVIS,” Bucky exhaled, wide-eyed, “how long was Steve in here?”

“Mister Rogers was listening to your unique rendition of ‘Since U Been Gone’ for approximately fifty-four seconds, Mister Barnes.” JARVIS paused for a moment before adding, “He appears to be rather distraught.”

“Oh, shit,” Bucky gasped in alarm. “Don’t let him leave! Please JARVIS, please don’t take him to the garage!”

“Where would you like me to direct him, Mister Barnes?” JARVIS asked.

“Bring him back here! Please!” Bucky begged, on the verge of panicking.

***

Steve was wiping away a tear from his cheek and exhaling a shuddering breath, when the elevator slowed to a stop just before reaching the parking garage and then reversed direction, taking him back upstairs.

“JARVIS?” he asked, sniffling, a frown creasing his brow. “What are you doing?”

“I am returning you to the gymnasium, Mister Rogers,” the A.I. replied.

“What? Why? It’s pretty obvious that Bucky doesn’t want to see me—ever again, it sounds like,” he mumbled sadly.

“Mister Barnes is becoming rather frantic that you are attempting to leave the building.”

Steve’s gaze sharpened in surprise. “He is?”

“I assure you, Mister Rogers, that I am not exaggerating when I tell you that he is currently imploring me to return you to him immediately,” JARVIS said.

“Really?”

“Really, Mister Rogers.”

Fear clutched at him. “What if he wants me to come back just so he can tell me we’re done?” Steve asked, his voice breaking.

“I am fairly confident that is not the case,” JARVIS responded.

“I hope you’re right,” Steve whispered, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as the lift slowed again at the gym floor.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! We knew it couldn't be all sunshine and rainbows forever, and high-stress situations will impact even the best relationships. I promise I won't keep you hanging for too long!
> 
> The kids are out of school, mostly--final tech and textbook check-ins to be done, then grades will be handed out. I'm not sorry to see this school year end. It has been surreal.
> 
> I hope you are all doing well and staying safe!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	6. Not Gonna Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I obviously jinxed myself. Everything was going great, the kids were finishing school--so of course I had to get sick. Or something. Not sure what the hell happened to me, but the joint/nerve/muscle/migraine pain was excruciating. I couldn't read at all for four solid days, and even now I still have some cramped up muscles that are damn uncomfortable.
> 
> BUT. I can read now, and I've gotten a couple good nights of sleep, so I'm here to update. Sorry to leave this one hanging for longer than intended, but that seems to be the way of it these days.
> 
> Lots of communication, fluff, and make-up smut ahead! Y'ALL HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

Bucky was pacing back and forth, biting his thumbnail as he waited for the elevator to come back.

“He didn’t get out, right?” Bucky asked JARVIS anxiously. “You’re bringing him back?”

“He will be returning to this floor in approximately eleven seconds,” the A.I. replied.

“Oh, god, I was such a jerk to him yesterday,” Bucky asked, his face twisting in anguish. “What if he wants to break up with me? _Fuck,_ what was I _thinking?_ ” His fists curled in his wet hair.

“Mister Rogers is arriving now.”

Bucky spun around as the doors slid open. Steve stood alone, at the back of the lift, staring at the floor.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered after a few seconds, his voice scratchy and rough.

Steve slowly raised his eyes to meet Bucky’s gaze; they were red and wet. “Hey, Buck,” he responded quietly, his expression stoic. “You, uh, you wanted to see me for something?”

Seeing the look of resignation on Steve’s face tipped Bucky over the edge. “Stevie? Did—did I ruin everything?” he asked, his voice breaking as tears started running down his cheeks.

Steve looked at him, bewildered. “How could you ruin anything? I was the one that messed up, not you.”

“No, you didn’t—I was so awful to you yesterday and I acted like such an idiot and I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry,_ ” he cried, sinking to his knees on the mat. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

“What? Oh, no, Bucky, no—I’m the one that should be apologizing,” Steve said, rushing forward and dropping down in front of the brunet. “I was pushing you and I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m so sorry. You have every right to be angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you, Stevie,” Bucky said, looking up at the blond with red, streaming eyes. He shook his head. “Not now. I couldn’t be mad at you.”

“Uh,” Steve stammered, “are you sure? Because you didn’t want to see me last night or have anything to do with me, you haven’t answered any of my texts, and when I was up here just a couple of minutes ago you sounded absolutely furious.” Steve looked at his hands, which were twisted together on his knees. “I thought you hated me.”

“No, Stevie, no, no, no!” Bucky cried, shaking his head emphatically. “That had nothing to do with you at all! I’m not mad at you! I just—I didn’t want you to see me like that, like _this,_ actually.” He swiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing tears and lord-knows-what-else all over his cheeks. “I’m mad at Brock, and my father, and at me—not you, Stevie. Not you.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve sighed, “why would you be mad at yourself?”

“For not standing up to the people who’ve treated me like shit,” he said bluntly, his hands falling into his lap. “I let them walk all over me like a goddamn doormat, and it suddenly hit me that if I had just opened my mouth or fought back even _once_ I could have prevented so much—“

“Hey, now,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly. “You are not to blame for their actions, remember?”

“I know,” he said softly, “but I should have stood up for myself.”

“You were young and hurt and vulnerable,” Steve reminded him, scooting a little closer. “And you _are_ standing up for yourself now. You are fighting back. Be proud of that. Please don’t beat yourself up for things other people did.” He reached out slowly and took one of Bucky’s hands in his. “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, too,” he replied, his breath hitching as more tears trickled down his face. He held Steve’s hand in a tight grip. “So…I didn’t ruin everything?” he asked, looking at Steve worriedly.

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” Steve replied softly. “I never should have raised my voice to you. I felt helpless and scared and I got angry and I’m _so_ sorry.”

“God, I was such a mess,” Bucky shook his head, his damp hair sticking to his face. “I was so scared and mad about everything, and I was already starting to lash out. I didn’t want to take it out on you, so I left.”

Steve nodded. “I understand, Buck, but you don’t ever need to hide your feelings from me. I should have realized what was happening and taken care of you. I missed you so much last night.” Tilting his head a little, he asked quietly, “Can I please take care of you now?”

Bucky nodded, his bottom lip quivering. “I really missed you, too.”

“C’mere, honey,” Steve murmured, holding his arms out.

Bucky launched himself into Steve’s arms, burying his face in the bigger man’s throat as he broke down in tears again. Getting slowly to his feet, Steve held Bucky close as the brunet curled around him like a sad, needy octopus.

“It’s okay, baby,” Steve soothed him, turning and walking back to the elevator. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” Getting into the lift, he said, “Our floor, please, JARVIS.”

“Gladly, Mister Rogers,” he replied.

Just a few seconds later, they arrived at their floor and their front door popped open. Steve walked inside, carrying his precious bundle, and used his foot to push the door closed behind him. He toed off his shoes, kicking them aside as he turned toward the kitchen and the hallway beyond.

Bucky was still hiccupping, trying to calm down, as Steve walked into their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, the smaller man’s legs still wrapped around his waist. He rocked back and forth, one hand stroking over Bucky’s back and the other combing through his damp hair. “I love you, sweet boy,” he said softly, “forever and always.”

“Promise?” Bucky sniffled, his head tucked into the big blond’s shoulder.

“I promise,” Steve smiled, giving him a squeeze. After a few more quiet minutes, when Bucky was breathing easier, Steve asked, “Do you want to take a shower, love?”

“God, Stevie, I’m so tired,” Bucky replied with a shuddering exhale, sounding completely wrung out.

“How about,” Steve began, kissing the top of his head, “we get in the shower, and I’ll get you all cleaned up. After that, we’ll put on some soft jammies and take a nap. How does that sound?”

Bucky nodded sleepily. “That sounds really nice,” he replied quietly, his voice cracking and squeaking.

“Yeah, it does,” Steve said. He stood up and carried Bucky into the bathroom, setting him on the counter just long enough to take off his shoes and his socks, and to pull his shirt over his head. “I’m going to turn on the shower,” he told the brunet, walking into the adjoining room and turning on the master shower switch.

Several different showerheads turned on, and Steve set them at a warm, gentle flow. Quickly stripping out of his own clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket, he returned to help Bucky off the counter. The younger man took his phone and ear buds out of his pocket, leaving them on the counter, and then steadied himself as Steve slid his pants and briefs down, dropping his sweaty clothes into the basket as well. “Let’s go, baby boy,” Steve said, drawing Bucky into the shower room.

Steve gently washed Bucky from head-to-toe, being extra-careful to get his hair clean and conditioned. Bucky swayed a bit on his feet as Steve massaged his scalp and finger-combed the detangler through his long, thick tresses. “Tha’s nice,” he slurred, his eyes shut and his head tipped back slightly.

“Always gonna take care of my baby,” Steve murmured, kissing his temple. Bucky smiled drowsily in return.

Steve used the hand-held sprayer to make sure Bucky was totally rinsed off before quickly scrubbing himself down and rinsing. He shut off the shower and walked over to the shelf, pulling down a towel to wrap around his waist, then two more that he carried back to his sleepy boyfriend.

He draped one towel over Bucky’s head and used the other to pat him dry. Once he was essentially more dry than wet, Steve took his hand and led him out of the shower and back into their room. There, he finished drying Bucky off and fetched him some briefs, pajama pants and a soft t-shirt, as well as some briefs and sleep pants for himself. Coming back, he set the clothes on the bed and started to dry Bucky’s hair. Once his hair was no longer dripping, Steve helped him into his sleep clothes.

After Steve dried off and got dressed, he took all the towels back into the bathroom and came back out with a comb and a hair band. He then sat on the bed and had Bucky sit between his knees; he combed his hair out and then braided it—a single, short plait—to keep it from getting tangled in his sleep.

By this point, Bucky could hardly keep his eyes open; he was so physically and emotionally exhausted that he was practically falling over. Steve reached back and pulled the covers down. “Come on, love, in you go,” he said, patting Bucky’s hip.

The little brunet turned and crawled over Steve, falling face first into a pillow. Smiling at him, Steve pulled the covers over him and kissed his cheek. When he stood up, a little squeak caught his attention. Turning back, he found Bucky looking up at him with big eyes. “Where are you going?” he asked, a worried crease between his eyebrows.

“Just getting us both some water, sweetheart. I’m coming right back,” Steve assured him.

“Oh. Okay,” Bucky said softly, settling back down. “Hurry?”

“Okay, honey, I’ll hurry.”

Steve walked out to the kitchen and, as he retrieved two bottles of water from the refrigerator, said, “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Mister Rogers?”

“Could you darken the windows in the bedroom, please? Oh, and could you send messages to Sam and Nat that Bucky and I are okay and that we’ll be staying here tonight?” Steve asked.

“It would be my pleasure, Mister Rogers,” JARVIS replied.

“Thanks, JARVIS.”

“You are very welcome.”

Steve returned to the bedroom to find Bucky fighting to stay awake; he blinked slowly, watching Steve place one of the bottles on the nightstand. “I’m back, sweetheart,” he said, opening the other bottle. “Have some water, okay?” He held the bottle while Bucky took a few small sips, and then he set it on the nightstand before having some water himself and then sliding between the sheets. The windows darkened then, dimming the light in the room considerably.

As soon as he lay down, Bucky was in his arms, snuggling close. Steve sighed happily, the ache in his chest finally completely dissipating. “Missed you so much last night,” he whispered, wrapping both of his big arms around the smaller man.

“I missed you, too,” Bucky murmured in response as his eyes slid shut, nuzzling into Steve’s throat and throwing a leg over the older man’s hips. “Couldn’t sleep without you.”

“Me, neither,” Steve said softly. “Love you more’n anything, baby doll.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

***

Steve woke a little while later; Bucky was twitching and mumbling in his sleep, flinching and whimpering. He cuddled the little brunet close, softly rubbing his back and whispering soothing words. Within a minute or so, the tension in Bucky’s muscles ebbed away and he relaxed into a peaceful slumber again; Steve followed him back into sleep just a few minutes later.

The next time he woke up, the sun was moving steadily toward the western horizon, the room gently illuminated by safety lights. Bucky was starting to squirm against him, becoming aggressively affectionate, as Steve liked to say. When Bucky was awake, he would cuddle and nuzzle gently and sweetly; when he was half-asleep, however, he would sometimes literally smash his own face into Steve’s chest or back or arm—whatever was closest at the time—rubbing it hard against Steve’s skin, making funny little grunting noises the whole time. It was so ridiculously cute that Steve didn’t even mind the inevitable beard-burn he would get from Bucky’s stubbly chin and cheeks.

This time it was his pectoral getting Bucky’s brand of rough love, with a little collarbone action thrown in when he dropped his head back down onto Steve’s chest. The older man huffed a laugh. “Hi there, sleepyhead,” he murmured, kissing Bucky’s forehead.

“Hrmph,” the little brunet grunted, nuzzling hard under Steve’s chin. Bucky then crawled completely on top of the big blond and draped himself all over him. He sighed contentedly when Steve began leisurely running his hands over his back in big circles.

“Are you getting hungry? We could get some food sent up,” Steve suggested.

“Mrrrp?” came the questioning noise from the general vicinity of his sternum.

“The kitchens downstairs are open twenty-four-seven,” he explained. “We can get pretty much whatever we want.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed.

“Soon?” Steve asked, his lips curling up into a smile.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay.”

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Bucky took a big, deep breath, exhaled forcefully, and then pushed himself up into a sitting position, straddling Steve’s waist. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed both water bottles, handing one to Steve, and twisting the cap off of the other.

He drank half the bottle at one go, stopped for a breath, and then drank the rest, sighing, “ _Ahhh,_ ” when he was finished.

Steve watched his boyfriend, drinking slowly and smiling up at him. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better,” Bucky nodded. He put the cap back on the empty bottle and set it on the nightstand. He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he smiled down at the man he was currently sitting on. “I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too, angel face,” Steve replied, grinning widely before taking another drink of water. “Are you ready for some food?” he asked, putting the cap back on his bottle. He put it on the nightstand as well and then set both of his hands on Bucky’s thighs.

“Kinda,” he said, smirking a little. “Kinda wanna kiss you all over, too.”

“I like the sound of that,” Steve said, “but I’m guessing you didn’t eat much today.”

Bucky pursed his lips and dropped his gaze. “I wasn’t really hungry,” he confessed with a shrug.

“I know you weren’t,” Steve nodded understandingly. “Know how I know?” Bucky frowned a little, shaking his head. “Because I wasn’t hungry, either. I was too worried about you—especially since you turned your phone off. I’ll always give you space if you want it, but please don’t cut yourself off like that.”

“I won’t do that again,” Bucky whispered, the corners of his mouth dropping. “That was a dumb thing to do. I’m sorry. I was so awful to you.”

“Hey, baby doll, c’mere,” Steve said, urging the smaller man to lie down on his chest. When Bucky had stretched out over him again, tucked securely under Steve’s chin, he said, “We were both pretty emotional yesterday, and that’s going to happen sometimes. I hope next time we can resolve it without needing to spend the night apart.”

“Me, too,” the brunet murmured, snuggling closer.

“I am sorry that I pushed you like I did. It wasn’t fair for me to do that. You need to do what’s right for you, and only you can say for sure what that is,” Steve said, hugging him.

“I know you weren’t trying to control me,” Bucky said. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not true.”

“I should have been listening more,” Steve said, sounding utterly disappointed in himself. “I wanted you to agree with me so badly that I wasn’t hearing what you needed me to hear. All I heard was that you were willingly going to put yourself in the same room as that bastard, and I—I just lost it.”

“You love me, and you don’t want me to get hurt,” Bucky murmured, a little smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sweetie.”

“I don’t ever want you to think that I would do that, that I would try to take over your life and tell you what you can and can’t do,” Steve whispered.

“Steve,” Bucky said, sitting up suddenly. “I hear what you’re saying, and _no,_ I don’t think that. You’re nothing like the people that have tried to control me, like Brock and my father. You’re concerned about _me,_ for my welfare and my feelings; they only cared about themselves. It’s not the same thing at all.”

Steve smiled at him, a little sadly. “I’m just so sorry, baby doll. Whatever you decide, I promise, I _swear_ that I’ll support you, one-hundred-percent.”

Bucky nodded jerkily, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat. “I know you will.” He leaned forward and kissed Steve’s soft, pink lips. “I love you.”

A few strands of hair had escaped his braid, and Steve tucked them behind Bucky’s ears. Cupping his cheeks and holding him still, Steve whispered, “I love you, too, sweetheart,” and kissed him again; soft, sweet kisses that flowed, one into the next, until Bucky stretched out languidly over Steve’s body, feeling the beginnings of desire stirring through his body.

“We’ve never had make-up sex before,” Bucky murmured, smiling against Steve’s lips.

Steve grinned, and was just about to respond when a rumble of epic proportions emanated from his midsection.

“Holy shit, Steve,” Bucky laughed, his forehead dropping to rest on the blond’s sternum. “You got a wild animal in there or somethin’?”

“I’ll show you a wild animal,” Steve snarked, tickling Bucky’s sides, “as soon as I get my pants off.”

Bucky squealed with laughter, trying to get away and protect his sides at the same time. They rolled over, Steve pinning Bucky to the mattress.

“Fuck, I love you,” Steve breathed, grinning down at Bucky’s flushed, smiling face.

“I love you, too,” Bucky sighed, panting. “But you need food before your stomach eats itself.”

“Yeah, let’s eat,” Steve agreed, kissing him hard before pushing himself up onto his knees. He pulled Bucky to a sitting position, and they both got up and walked, hand-in-hand into the kitchen, the lights turning on automatically. “What are you in the mood for?” Steve asked, opening the refrigerator. “We can order something from the kitchens if you want, or—“

“How about some sandwiches?” Bucky said, hugging Steve from behind and peering into the fridge. “It’s quick and easy.”

“That sounds good,” Steve responded, reaching in and pulling out sliced meat and cheese. “Roast beef okay?”

“Roast beef’s great,” Bucky replied, taking the packages from him and putting them on the counter.

They gathered the rest of the ingredients and made their sandwiches, Steve pouring two glasses of milk for them when they were done. Sitting down at the little eat-in table, they ate together, hardly able to stop touching each other; their bare feet were tangled, their knees were bumping, and they kept reaching over just to run their hands and fingers over one another’s hair, shoulders, arms, and hands.

Once they were both finished eating, Bucky jumped up to take the dishes over to the sink, rinsing them off and putting them in the dishwasher. He walked back quickly, as Steve was pushing his chair out, and asked, “Are you done?” Almost before Steve could even answer with a nod, Bucky pushed Steve’s chair to the side, turning it towards him, and sat on his boyfriend’s lap, straddling his thighs. “Good,” he murmured, plunging his hands into Steve’s hair and kissing him.

Grunting a bit in surprise, Steve quickly got with the program, returning Bucky’s kisses with equal fervor. Pulling the hair band out and dropping it, Steve curled his fingers into the brunet’s still-damp hair, undoing the short braid as he fisted the silky locks. Bucky moaned into his mouth, his back arching; he hooked his ankles around the rear chair legs and pulled himself tightly into Steve’s body.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, his head falling back, feeling himself getting harder as Bucky rutted against him.

“Did you really think,” Bucky whispered roughly, sucking and nibbling down the side of Steve’s throat, “that you could sit here, with no shirt on, looking so fucking gorgeous, and I wouldn’t go completely crazy?” He rolled his hips, grinding against his boyfriend. “I need you so bad, _please,_ Stevie.”

“God, I need you, too, baby boy,” Steve moaned desperately, running his hands up and down Bucky’s back. “You’re so damned beautiful, feels so good to touch you.”

“Need to get you naked,” Bucky murmured in between kisses.

“I’m halfway there, little love,” Steve grinned, nipping Bucky’s bottom lip and delighting in the hungry moan that resulted.

“Wanna ride you, Daddy.”

“Holy fucking Christ,” Steve growled, grabbing the smaller man’s ass with both hands and getting to his feet. “Let’s go. Bedroom. Now.”

“But—“ Bucky started, Steve cutting him off.

“I don’t have lube or condoms stashed out here,” he explained, carrying Bucky back into their room. “Not yet, anyway,” he grinned.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and held on tight. “You’ve been slacking off,” he joked, sucking a red mark into the soft skin under Steve’s ear. “I fully expected you to have some hidden under the table.”

“Not sure that table could support our weight,” Steve retorted, entering their room and crawling onto their bed. He lay Bucky down across it, kissing him hard. Bucky’s fingers were curled around his shoulder blades, digging in and pulling him close; Steve moaned, rolling his pelvis down.

Bucky’s head fell back in pleasure. “ _Unh,_ fuck, that feels _so_ —wait a minute,” he gasped, breathing hard. “Did you just call me fat?”

Steve snorted, his laughter muffled against Bucky’s throat. “Not hardly, you sassy little shit.” He dragged his teeth along his boyfriend’s sharp jawline, loving how Bucky shivered beneath him. “I was doubting the table’s structural ability to withstand the pounding you’re about to take,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Make a note,” Bucky said, pulling Steve’s head down so that he could continue to kiss him, “tell Tony we need a stronger table.”

“No talking about Tony when we’re having sex,” Steve growled playfully, sucking at the brunet’s red, kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“He’d probably get a kick out of it,” Bucky quipped, his tongue darting out to lightly tease the big blond.

“He’d probably try to get more than that,” he replied, his voice dropping deeply as his hand curled into Bucky’s long, wavy hair and tugged, “and I’m _not_ sharing.”

“Am I all yours, Daddy?” Bucky asked breathily, his head tipping back and his eyes fluttering shut.

“ _All mine,_ ” Steve gritted out between clenched teeth. He bit Bucky’s clavicle where it peeked out from the collar of his t-shirt, leaving faint indentations of his teeth on either side of the bone and making the younger man gasp sharply and arch his back. “Mmm, _fuck,_ I love the sounds you make,” he moaned.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve curled his fingers into the waist of Bucky’s pajama pants and briefs, sliding them down as he scooted off the bed. After shucking his own pants and briefs as Bucky pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it aside, he reached into the top drawer of the nightstand and retrieved the bottle of lube and a condom. He dropped them on the bed as he knelt on the mattress again, crawling between Bucky’s legs, which spread easily for him.

“Such a pretty baby,” he whispered reverently, his eyes roaming over his boyfriend’s long, lean body, stopping at his twitching erection. Bucky smiled, his pupils dilating. “Prettiest baby there ever was.” He trailed his fingers up the smaller man’s shins, from his ankles to his knees.

“You’re the handsomest Daddy in the whole world,” Bucky murmured shyly, and Steve smiled widely, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“You’re just the sweetest, baby boy. So sweet that I want to lick you up,” Steve said, his voice rumbling as his eyes darkened. He hooked his hands under Bucky’s knees and pushed them carefully up toward the smaller man’s shoulders, exposing him to Steve’s searching eyes. “Wanna lick your gorgeous little hole until you’re so loose and wet that I can just slip my cock right in.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Bucky moaned loudly, grasping his thighs and pulling his legs higher.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Steve teased, leaning down to kiss and nibble at Bucky’s round, muscular ass. “When I’ve got my tongue buried in you? I love how you beg for it.”

“I love it, feels so good,” the brunet whimpered, whining as Steve used the flat of his tongue to lick all around the tightly puckered flesh with out actually touching it. “Please, Daddy,” he whined, gasping when Steve flicked over the pink rosette with just the tip of his tongue. “ _Nnngh._ ”

“Please what, angel face?” Steve grinned, fluttering his tongue across the sensitive flesh. He ran both hands soothingly along the backs of Bucky’s thighs, smiling as his little boy tried to push his hips up. “Use your words, baby doll.”

“Please, Daddy— _oh, fuck_ —please lick my hole. Make— _ahh, goddammit, Steve_ —make me all wet and loose and slippery so I can sit on your cock,” he said in a rush, desire spiking within him.

Steve loved it when Bucky was so out of his mind with lust that his mouth ran away with him. He’d been so shy, so uncertain about asking for exactly what he wanted when they first got together; the only reason he could be vocal about what he wanted now was that he knew he could trust Steve implicitly.

“There’s my good boy,” Steve purred, just before slowly dragging his tongue across the furled muscle.

“ _Nnngh—god,_ oh please, Stevie,” he panted, whining in his desperation.

“Relax, darlin’,” the big blond cooed, licking him gently and deliberately. “I don’t want you comin’ too quickly.”

“But it feels so _good,”_ Bucky whimpered, his hips making little thrusting motions.

“You’re not allowed to come until you’re riding my cock, though; ya got that, sweetheart?” Steve smirked, stiffening his tongue and focusing his attention on the center of Bucky’s rosette.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” he groaned loudly, his eyes practically rolling back in his head. “I love how you take care of me.”

“I know you do,” Steve chuckled. He kept his eyes on Bucky’s face as he licked in a straight line from his pretty pink hole to the red, weeping head of his cock, sucking gently for a few seconds before releasing him and starting over. Bucky keened, opening his eyes to look down at the blonde head bobbing slowly on his shaft.

Steve paused briefly in his circuit to suck Bucky’s balls into his mouth, watching as his boyfriend’s eyes clenched shut and his jaw dropped open, little panting breaths escaping him. He was deliciously flushed from his ears to his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, keeping time with his heartbeat.

“Gorgeous,” Steve whispered with a grin, placing kitten licks all over the gradually relaxing muscle. He kept his eyes on Bucky’s face, waiting for the moment when the little brunet gave himself over to the blissful sensations and all of the tension melted out of him. As soon as he saw Bucky’s shoulders relax and heard him moan breathily, Steve smirked evilly and plunged his tongue into him as deeply as he could.

_“Ahh!”_ Bucky shouted, his back arching so hard that his spine popped. “Steve— _Daddy_ — _oh, fuck!_ ” he cried, twisting and squirming, as Steve lapped and sucked at his rim. “God, please, I need your cock,” he implored.

Steve reached out to the side, grabbing the bottle of lube. “Can I start openin’ you up, doll face?” he asked, already squirting some of the cool liquid onto his fingers.

“’S ‘bout damn time,” Bucky moaned, yelping when Steve nipped at his ass cheek.

“Such a mouthy little brat,” he smiled, kissing the same spot. He used two slick fingers to spread the lube on and around the hot, tender flesh; practically purring while his boyfriend whined and pleaded with him.

“Please, Daddy, c’mon,” the younger man urged.

“You wanna do it yourself?” Steve joked.

“I will if it gets your dick in me faster,” Bucky replied in a low, gravelly tone, biting his bottom lip.

Even though they were teasing each other, Steve’s breath caught for a second. Bucky watched as his pupils dilated and the color rose in his cheeks. He smiled, arousal pooling hot and sharp in his lower abdomen.

“You wanna see that?” Bucky asked softly. “Wanna watch me open myself up for you?”

He could see Steve’s chest rising and falling faster, and when the blond man nodded rapidly, Bucky grinned widely.

“Lay back, Daddy,” he whispered, scrambling up onto his knees. Once Steve was on his back, Bucky straddled his thighs, his back turned toward the older man. He picked up the lube and coated the middle finger of his right hand and reached back to press the slick digit to his hole. He massaged the sensitive flesh, circling it as his hips moved. “Fuck, that feels good,” he moaned.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty, baby boy,” Steve ground out, watching his boyfriend begin to finger himself. Bucky’s whole body was flushed pink, the lightest sheen of perspiration covering his skin; his hair hung loose in drying waves down to just below his shoulders, the soft bedroom lights turning his chestnut highlights to reddish-gold. The muscles in his back flexed and stretched as he moved, and Steve watched as if hypnotized.

Bucky paused in his movements for a few seconds as he slipped his finger inside. “ _Unh, fuck,_ ” he gasped, slowly moving it in and out.

“Holy hell, darlin’,” Steve groaned roughly, reaching out to wrap one of his hands lightly around Bucky’s hip. “That is fuckin’ incredible.” He grabbed his own cock with his other hand, stroking it a few times to relieve some of the pressure. “Just gorgeous.”

After another minute of pleasuring himself, Bucky looked over his shoulder and asked, “Do you want me to add another finger, Daddy?”

“Yeah, honey,” Steve exhaled, his eyes completely blown black, the bright blue irises nothing but a slim ring. “Open yourself up for me.”

“Keep that cock nice and hard, okay?” he grinned in response, glancing at the red, straining shaft dripping pre-fluids into a puddle on Steve’s stomach.

“Not a problem, sweetness,” he chuckled breathlessly. “I could probably come just from watching you.”

“You’d better not,” the little brunet said, picking up the bottle of lube. He removed his finger, applied more lube, and then came back with two. He pressed in, the muscle giving way without too much difficulty, and his head fell back. “Oh, _god,_ ” he moaned loudly, immediately pumping his hand quickly. He leaned forward a bit, arching his back and rolling his hips.

The strangled sound that left Steve’s throat would be one that Bucky would store away in his memory as one of the raunchiest, most aroused and debauched sounds that Steve had ever made. “Jesus _fuckin’_ Christ,” he murmured through clenched teeth. He grabbed Bucky’s ass with both hands, squeezing the hard, muscular cheeks and pulling them apart. “You are the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” he whispered, breathing hard.

Steve slid one hand inward and softly rubbed his thumb over Bucky’s stretched rim; the little brunet shuddered and moaned breathily, “Oh, fuck, Daddy, _please._ ”

Just hearing how Steve could barely keep it together had turned Bucky on even more. He stretched himself as best he could, as quickly as possible. Just as he was getting ready to add a third finger, Steve gritted out, “Turn around, baby boy.”

Bucky moved off of him and turned, and Steve sat up, lifting Bucky to straddle him again, facing him this time. “I still need to stretch a little,” Bucky said.  
  


“I know,” Steve nodded, picking up the lube and re-coating Bucky’s two fingers, then directing them back to his hole. As soon as his boyfriend was fingering himself again, Steve whispered, “I wanna help.”

Steve poured some lube onto the middle finger of his own right hand and reached behind Bucky, quickly locating where the smaller man was pushing his two fingers inside himself. He carefully slid his thick finger in alongside Bucky’s, groaning into the brunet’s throat, feeling the tight, wet heat of him.

Bucky cried out, wrapping his left arm around Steve’s shoulders and holding him tight as possible, as together they relaxed and loosened the furled muscle. “Fuck, Daddy,” Bucky whimpered, “that feels so good.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Steve gasped. His left hand crept up Bucky’s back and grabbed a handful of thick, dark hair by the roots; he gently pulled, tipping Bucky’s head back and exposing his throat.

Bucky shouted when Steve’s teeth clamped down on the joint between his neck and right shoulder. His muscles clenched, squeezing their fingers tightly, and he groaned, loud enough for the entire island of Manhattan to hear him.

“I need your cock in me, Daddy, please,” he sobbed, fucking himself down onto their combined fingers. “Please let me have it.”

Steve released his hair and reached for the condom, which he tore open with his teeth. Rolling it on one-handed while Bucky writhed in his lap turned out to be a bit of a challenge, but eventually Steve managed. “Here you go, baby boy,” he moaned, sliding his finger from Bucky’s ass. “Take it, it’s all yours.”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Bucky breathed, taking his own hand away from his hole and immediately gripping Steve’s cock. He shuffled forward on his knees a few inches and angled the swollen, rigid shaft up. The broad tip pushed past the first ring of muscle with only a little resistance and Bucky sank slowly down on it, exhaling shakily as his ass met Steve’s hard, muscled thighs.

“Oh, god,” Steve choked out, wrapping his arms tightly around Bucky’s torso; one hand curled around the brunet’s shoulder, the other hand splayed across his ass. “You…fuck, doll, you feel amazing,” he murmured, kissing his way up Bucky’s throat and nipping at his jawline.

“ _Hnngh,_ ” Bucky keened. He could hardly stay still; his hips were rolling minutely, back and forth, small movements that kept Steve’s cock buried deep within him. His own cock was pressed between them, and his pre-fluids were smearing across both their stomachs. Every little roll of his hips pushed his dick over Steve’s ridiculously cut abdominal muscles, and that might have been the best thing to ever happen to him.

Steve waited for Bucky to adjust, kissing him deeply, letting him rock at his own pace and rhythm as his muscles relaxed to accommodate Steve’s body within his own. He ran his hands over Bucky’s back, down over his ass and thighs, then up to his neck and into his hair. “Love you so much, baby boy,” he whispered against his lips, then kissing all over this throat and shoulders. There was a dark red mark where he’d bitten him earlier, and Bucky hissed when Steve licked over the spot.

“Love you, Daddy,” the smaller man moaned, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders and holding him close. The tiny motion of his hips was enough to have Steve’s cock sliding in and out a couple of inches; if he spread his knees just a bit—fuck, that felt good—and scooted back just a little, he could move even more, and— _oh, fuck!_

“ _Uhnnn,_ ” he groaned, loud and long, as Steve’s dick dragged firmly across his prostate. He arched his spine, pushed his hips back, then snapped them forward, and _oh, Jesus_ —

“Oh, my _god,_ baby,” Steve moaned, his mouth falling open in pleasure. “That’s so good, you gorgeous boy, so good for your Daddy.”

“ _Yeah, yeah-hnnngh,_ ” Bucky nodded. He was beyond articulation at this point; there was nothing but motion and sensation, and all the younger man could do was moan with every gyration of his hips. One hand clutched Steve’s right shoulder, the other was behind him, balanced on Steve’s left thigh. His cock wasn’t pressed between them anymore, but _holy shit_ this felt so goddamn good he couldn’t stop. Steve spread his legs just a little to give Bucky room to move, and then he leaned back onto his elbows and let his baby boy go to town.

Being with Steve had been, without a doubt, the most sexually liberating experience of Bucky’s life. When he first came out, there had been the initial awkward, nervous encounters, finding out the basics of what he liked and what he didn’t; then an infrequent string of short-lived relationships and one-night stands through college and graduate school where he never got comfortable enough to really let go.

Then there had been the eight months with Brock; even though the physical trauma had long since healed, Bucky was still dealing with the emotional trauma from that experience. It had been months after escaping that situation before he would even consider dating again, and even then he hadn’t been actively looking for it.

But then Steve—beautiful, darling Steve—had fallen into his life, and for the first time, Bucky understood what it meant to fully trust another person with his heart, mind, body, and soul. It was freeing, exhilarating; he could be himself, knowing that Steve loved him and accepted him no matter what. Hell, Steve encouraged him to explore anything and everything he was curious about. He loved seeing Bucky light up at new discoveries, and Bucky shared everything he learned with Steve, the man he loved more than reason.

So Bucky felt no hesitation whatsoever in chasing his pleasure by riding Steve as hard as he could. He brought both feet forward, planting them flat on the bed as he leaned back, bracing his right hand on the mattress and cupping his junk flat against his stomach with his left hand—because as incredible as this position felt, having his boys flying around and slapping all over was pretty distracting.

“Oh, baby, that’s beautiful,” Steve moaned, watching Bucky work himself up and down. He reached forward to just barely rub his thumb against his boyfriend’s perineum, and Bucky groaned filthily, his head falling back as his prostate was stimulated from inside and out. “Looks so good, feels so hot and tight. You are _perfect_ for me, baby boy, absolutely fuckin’ _perfect._ ”

“Gettin’ close, Daddy,” Bucky whispered breathily, strands of hair clinging to his damp skin. He was panting faster, slamming down harder, every exhalation becoming higher pitched and even more desperate-sounding. “Oh, fuck, _fuck_ —“

“There ya go, sugar,” Steve grunted, speaking softly. “Come on Daddy’s cock. Love it when you make a mess for me.”

“ _Oh, fuck, yes,_ ” he replied through clenched teeth, wrapping his hand around his shaft and jerking it roughly. “Oh, god, I’m so fucking _ggnnnhhh—uuhhnn!_ ”

Bucky’s orgasm hit him like a truck, the thick, white stripes of his spend painting Steve’s abdomen, and low, long moans accompanied every breath as every single one of his muscles contracted. As soon as his vertical movements faltered, Steve lay flat on his back and thrust upward, crying out as the smaller man’s muscles clenched down and spasmed around him. “Jesus, baby, you’re squeezing me so hard, _fuck!_ ”

“Oh, _fuck,_ Steve,” Bucky groaned, coming down from his high, before suddenly wincing a few moments later. “ _Ah,_ ah, hang on—hold up a second.”

Steve halted his movements immediately, breathing hard. “You okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, pushing his torso forward and pulling his feet back so that he was again straddling Steve’s hips. “Just need to move. My right hand is almost numb.” He leaned forward then to kiss the big blond’s soft, red lips. “And my prostate couldn’t really take any more direct hits, either,” he grinned.

Steve took Bucky’s left hand and brought it up to his mouth, licking off the fluid that had spilled across his knuckles. “Mmm,” he hummed, sucking one finger at a time into his mouth as Bucky grinned. “It’s all good, sweetheart,” he smiled, kissing the palm of his boyfriend’s now-clean hand. “You comfortable now? Can I keep going?”

“Start slow?” Bucky asked, placing his elbows on the mattress above Steve’s shoulders and draping himself over his thick chest.

“’Course, baby,” Steve purred, kissing him sweetly. He reached down to grab Bucky’s ass with both hands and squeezed gently, then pressed him down and rubbed slowly up his back. “Just give me a ‘green’ when you’re ready for me to move, darlin’.”

Bucky sighed happily, enjoying some slow, deep kisses. His hair fell forward, creating a dark, warm curtain around the two of them. “Green,” he whispered against Steve’s lips.

Steve smiled into the kiss and then began to carefully rock upward into Bucky’s hot, pliant body. He moaned into Bucky’s mouth as the molten pool of arousal in his belly quickly re-ignited. “Goddamn, baby doll,” he exhaled, “nothin’ else on this Earth could ever feel as good as you.”

“ _Ohh,_ ” Bucky whimpered, stretching languorously over the big blond’s chest, his back arching just slightly. “That feels good,” he breathed, his words a soft caress over Steve’s lips.

_It feels perfect,_ Steve thought as he slid in and out of Bucky’s still-so-tight channel, the head of his cock nudging and rubbing and getting squeezed by every ridge, every muscle. “Not too much?” he asked, holding his little boy close.

“Mm-mm,” Bucky shook his head the tiniest bit, the ends of his hair brushing across Steve’s cheeks and forehead. “Just right, Daddy,” he sighed, ducking his head for more kisses.

Steve held him close with his left arm, while his right hand soothed and petted and gripped in turn. What had started as wild, pounding desire had evolved; but even though it had slowed, becoming deeper, it was no less passionate. The gentle rocking motion of their bodies together allowed for long, wet, uninterrupted kisses that left both men equally breathless.

“ _Buck,_ ” Steve whispered, his voice rough.

“Mmm, yeah, Stevie?” he replied, his eyes closed in pleasure as he felt Steve’s body quickening beneath him.

“’M gettin’ close, baby,” the blond gasped. Bucky could feel his movements becoming jerky as his muscles started to tighten.

“D’ya wanna fuck me hard, Daddy?” he asked, biting his bottom lip and clenching around Steve’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, both hands grabbing Bucky’s ass and pressing him down. “Please, honey, please.”

Bucky pushed himself up slightly on his hands and arched his back, grinning down at the besotted man underneath him. “C’mon, Daddy, give it to me.”

“ _Jesus,_ baby doll,” he moaned, thrusting up hard and fast.

“ _Uhn,_ yeah, Daddy, don’t stop,” Bucky urged him, getting jostled by every impact of Steve’s body in and against his. “Feels so good when you come in me.”

“I wanna,” Steve bit out, “wanna come in you, fill you up.”

“I want it, too,” Bucky purred, rolling his hips down to meet Steve’s thrusts. “Wanna know I’m all yours. Make me yours, Daddy.”

“ _Mine,_ ” Steve growled, crushing his boyfriend to his chest and pounding into him from below. Bucky’s arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, hanging on as Steve completely lost control. He barely lasted another half-minute before gasping, “Oh, oh, god, baby, I’m coming, oh, Bucky, _fuck!_ ”

He ground his pelvis hard against Bucky’s ass, his entire body going rigid; Bucky could feel Steve’s cock pulsing and twitching inside him as he spilled into the condom. The only sounds Bucky could hear were the older man’s panting breaths, his own pleased hums, and the wet squelch of their skin as they continued to move together, cradled in each other’s arms.

Eventually, Steve’s body relaxed and his grip loosened, though he continued to embrace the gorgeous and spent brunet splayed bonelessly across his torso. His fingers started to trace little designs on his slick, sweaty skin, Bucky nuzzling closer in response. “How are you, baby?” he asked softly, one hand reaching up to brush Bucky’s hair out of his face.

“Super-dee-duper,” he chuckled, unwinding himself from around Steve’s neck. “How ‘bout you?”

“So good,” he smiled sleepily. “So tired, but so good.” He gave Bucky a squeeze before asking, “Wanna take a bath?”

“Probably should,” the younger man sighed. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.” At Steve’s tiny noise of displeasure, Bucky said, “It was so worth it. That was incredible.”

Placated, Steve kissed his forehead. “JARVIS,” he called out raspily, “can you run a warm bath for us, please?”

Bucky’s ears perked up a little just as the A.I. replied, “Certainly, Mister Rogers. Shall I add some lavender Epsom salt as well?”

“Yes, thank you, JARVIS,” Steve answered, and Bucky’s mouth dropped open.

“It’s amazing that he can do all that,” Bucky said, as he heard the bath start running.

“Well,” Steve murmured into his hair, “JARVIS is pretty much fully integrated into the building.”

“Can we get JARVIS at our place? It’d be worth it just for his bath-running capabilities alone.” He gasped comically. “And the coffee maker! He could start the coffee before we even get out of bed!”

“I do not cook, Mister Barnes,” JARVIS informed him. “I believe it is considered a fire hazard.”

Bucky pouted as Steve huffed a laugh. “Not sure you’d actually want to tear our place apart to install him, either,” Steve said, tucking his boyfriend into his shoulder. “That would be a lot of mess.”

“I suppose,” the brunet admitted. He snuggled closer. “Just so nice to cuddle with you.”

“It is,” Steve sighed happily, hugging Bucky tightly.

They lay together quietly, for another minute or so, until Bucky wiggled his bottom. “Did you forget something?” he asked snarkily.

“No,” Steve replied with a tired smile, “I just didn’t want to move yet.”

“It’s gonna start moving on its own, ready or not,” the smaller man said laughingly, and sure enough, Steve felt his softened shaft begin to slip from Bucky’s body.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, reaching quickly for a tissue. After removing and discarding the used condom, he said, “The bath is probably almost ready.”

“The bathtub will be filled in approximately twenty-five seconds,” JARVIS informed them.

“Perfect timing,” Steve groaned, reaching down to lightly smack Bucky’s butt cheek. “Up you go.”

Later, after getting cleaned, dried, dressed in their pajamas again, and rehydrated, the two men got ready for bed. The entire day had been so mentally and emotionally draining for both of them, especially after a sleepless night, that they had to fight to stay awake long enough to brush their teeth.

Finally back in bed, they curled up in each other’s arms and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that satisfied everyone's communication kink. :) Even the best relationships have hiccups from time to time, and stressful situations can cause people to forget themselves.
> 
> I hope you are all well and healthy, and remember to WEAR YOUR MASKS and WASH YOUR HANDS. It's the only way we're going to stop spreading this virus.
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	7. Doing My Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, guys. This last month-plus has been freaking insane. Lots of family drama going on, topped off with my laptop locking up on me when @pple forced through an update that suddenly made all of my existing software incompatible. I didn't lose any of my files, but they were completely inaccessible. Thank bejeebus my husband is a nerd, because I would have lost years of material had he not been able to figure it out. 
> 
> So I'm here, finally, with a fully functioning laptop once again. I hope you enjoy this chapter--you've certainly waited long enough for it.

“So for the first round, I’ve made white cake with lemon filling and vanilla buttercream,” Nat said, reading down a list that Maria had filled out, “red velvet with cream cheese frosting, a carrot cake, also with cream cheese frosting, and a chocolate cake with salted caramel filling and dulce de leche frosting.” She looked at the group of people congregated in her kitchen and dining area. “Does that sound good to start?”

“To start?” Sam asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “There’s more?”

“Of course,” Nat smiled. “I wanted to start you out with some classic choices before we moved into slightly more adventurous territory.” She looked down at her sheet. “We also have coconut cake with passion fruit filling, Champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon poppy seed with blueberry filling, and apple spice with cinnamon buttercream, but we’ll save those for next week. I don’t want the flavors to get muddled.”

“Which one do you want to bring out first?” Bucky asked from the kitchen side, where he and Clint were helping out.

“Just to double-check,” Nat looked around at everyone, “no nut allergies? Gluten or other food sensitivities?”

“As long as you haven’t snuck spicy peppers into anything, I’m good,” Peggy smiled.

“Oh!” Pepper’s head popped up. “I’m allergic to strawberries.”

“I forgot!” Maria winced, smacking herself on the forehead. “I’m sorry, Nat.”

“Not a problem, Maria, I will take out the Champagne cake with strawberry buttercream and we can come up with something else,” Nat said easily, crossing it off her list.

Once everyone had confirmed that there were no other allergies, and Nat made sure everyone had water, she had Bucky bring out plates with small pieces of white cake with lemon filling and vanilla buttercream. Soon the room was filled with appreciative noises and happy chatter. Sam and Maria had invited their entire wedding party to come along to the tasting; Sam had Steve, Tony and Peggy; Maria had her best friend from college, Angie Martinelli, and her closest friends on the police force, Brigid O’Reilly and Mercedes Knight.

It was not the first time the whole wedding party had gotten together, and for the most part, they got along well. Sam and Maria had hosted a dinner for everyone to meet, and Brigid had jokingly complained that none of the men in the groom’s party were available. “Unless…” she had smiled flirtatiously at Steve, noting his lack of wedding ring.

“Nope,” Bucky had stated emphatically, leaping out of his chair and sitting across Steve’s lap without hesitation. Steve wrapped his arms around the little brunet, hugging him close, and that was the end of that discussion.

Bucky still gave Brigid a bit of side-eye, but she hadn’t done anything since to indicate that she was going to pursue the issue, so he tried his best to let it go.

Despite the two of them making up after their argument regarding Bucky’s testimony in rather spectacular fashion, and Steve’s pledge to support Bucky no matter what he chose to do, the brunet remained understandably anxious over the upcoming trial. It felt like it was overshadowing every aspect of his life, and he felt on edge whenever he allowed himself too much time to think.

So he decided to keep busy, as much as possible anyway, and helping Nat out on his day off with a cake tasting wasn’t exactly a hardship. He was familiar enough with her style of working and the way that she operated in the kitchen that he didn’t consider it work at all. Most of the people there were his friends, so he’d felt no pressure to dress up or look overly professional, though he had pulled his hair back into a low ponytail and used purple nitrile gloves to help slice and serve the small pieces of cake.

It was, really, an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon; Nat talked to the group after each sample, asking what they liked and didn’t like, writing down all of their comments and questions, while Clint made sure everyone had water and made coffee. Bucky helped bus the table and also got to eat some truly excellent cake.

“I really wish we’d scheduled the tux fitting for before this,” Tony groaned, leaning back and unbuckling his belt once all the samples had been tasted.

“Should have dressed for the occasion, like I did,” Bucky laughed, tugging at the elastic waistband of his track pants. Tony stuck his tongue out at him, making Bucky laugh even more.

“Relax, Tony,” Pepper soothed. “There’s two months until the wedding. You’ll be fine.”

“But there’s more cake,” Tony whined, “and it’s so _good._ ”

“You have a week before round two, pal,” Sam grinned, “and you have your own professional-grade gym. Figure it out.”

Tony deflated in his chair. “But that’s so much work. Just let me eat cake and be fat.”

“Aww,” Steve chuckled, getting up to help Bucky clear the dishes from the table. “I almost feel bad for you. Not really, but almost.”

“Just leave those in the sink, Steve,” Nat said, waving her hand at him. “Clint and I will take care of it later.”

Bucky was happy that there was no lingering tension between Steve and Nat. After he and Steve had made up, Bucky had called Nat—at Steve’s request—to let her know that he was okay. Naturally, she had demanded to know what had happened; she was probably going to be protective of him for the rest of their lives, and Bucky was surprisingly okay with that.

So Bucky had gone to her house, to sit and drink coffee in this very same kitchen, and had told her all about the meeting with Matt and Foggy—his decision to testify, Steve’s vocal concerns about it, and the argument that followed.

She had listened calmly and quietly, waiting until after he had finished speaking to smack him upside the head. “ _That_ is for worrying Steve overnight. Don’t do that again.” Then she kissed his cheek. “And _that_ is for seeing that you’re strong enough to stand up for yourself.” She smiled at him, shaking her head. “Boys are so bad at talking.”

“Hey!” Bucky had sputtered, rubbing the back of his head. “We talked after. We got everything worked out.”

“You actually talked?” she asked, her eyebrows arched. “You didn’t just screw each other into submission?”

“Pssh. Who do you think you’re talking to? We did both.”

She rolled her eyes, a throaty chuckle escaping. “You know I’m always on your side, right? Always.”

“I know,” Bucky smiled softly.

“That being said, I don’t think Steve is the type to try to force you to bend to his will.”

“He’s not,” Bucky agreed. “I was being scared and overly defensive and angry when I said that. It wasn’t fair, and it’s certainly not true.”

“Also—and I mean this,” Nat stared at him intently, “Steve doesn’t love you because he thinks you’re perfect. He doesn’t have some unrealistic image of you on a pedestal in his head. I know you’re working on this, and it’s not easy to remember when you’re feeling stressed out and like everything is awful, but Steve is not going to bail on you just because you’re having a tough time. He adores you, faults and all, and doubting his love for you isn’t fair to him. Even when you’re feeling bad about yourself, try to remember that Steve believes in you and he believes in what you two share; he’s not going to give up on that.”

Bucky inhaled slowly and exhaled shakily, nodding even as tears pricked at his eyes. “Thanks, Tash,” he whispered.

So now, with everyone sitting around the table or at the kitchen island drinking coffee, all was well. The only grumbling was from Maria, who didn’t know how on earth she was going to choose, and her friend Angie, who said she was acting like a bridezilla.

Bucky’s cell phone rang just before Maria exploded in righteous indignation. He pulled it from his back pocket, and saw that Becca was calling. He nudged Steve, who was sitting next to him at the kitchen island, and said, “It’s Becca. I’m going to take this.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Steve smiled before turning back to the ongoing conversation.

“Hey, Becks,” Bucky said as he walked into the living room. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Buckaroo,” she responded cheerily. “I’m good, how is everything with my big brother?”

“Just fine,” he smiled, determined to put everything else out of his head. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I’ve decided which StarkTech Internship I’m going to apply for,” she said, and Bucky could hear the excitement in her voice.

“Yeah? That’s great!”

“I’m applying for the one in Software Development,” she gushed. “Oh, my gosh, it’s amazing.”

“I’m so proud of you, Becks,” Bucky grinned.

“For what? I haven’t even done anything yet,” she laughed in response.

“You will.”

“Hey, sweet Buckeye,” Tony yelled from the dining area, “your boyfriend is making fun of me!”

“You’re a big boy, Tony,” Bucky hollered back. “You can handle it.”

“Is that _Tony_ Tony?” Becca asked.

“Yeah, you wanna talk to him?”

“What? _No!”_ she gasped.

“Didn’t he ask you to let him know which program you were looking at?” Bucky teased.

“He didn’t mean that,” Becca hissed. “He was just being friendly.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tony.”

“I’m not telling him,” she said insistently. “I will make it through the process on my own merit or not at all. I mean it, Bucky. Don’t say anything.”

“Okay, okay, Becks, I won’t,” Bucky capitulated, secretly very proud. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“I hope so,” she exhaled. “It’s an incredible program.”

“You’ll keep me posted, though, right?”

“Of course.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before ending the call. Bucky got back to helping Nat and Clint clean up, and eventually everyone headed out.

The rest of the week kept Bucky busy as well. He put out a sign-up sheet for employees at the bookstore to come in for the yearly inventory all-day/all-night shift. Despite the long hours, it was a popular shift; employees were paid time-and-a-half for coming in on a Sunday, they played loud music all day, and the store provided dinner for everyone working.

The Sunday two weeks out was chosen for Inventory Day and the list filed up quickly. Bucky made sure that the schedule for the week after gave everyone ample time to recover before they came into work again—himself included—and he started gathering information to make the day go as smoothly as possible. Luckily, Nick left meticulous notes from when he had handled the yearly task, so there was very little for Bucky to ask him.

When Bucky wrote the day on their large home calendar, Steve pouted. “You’ll be working all day _and_ all night? On a Sunday?”

“It’s once a year, Stevie,” Bucky laughed. “You have your crunch time every once in a while when you’re finalling an issue for publication, and I have mine. You’ll be okay for one day without me.”

“But I love our Sundays,” Steve mumbled. “Do we get to cuddle in the morning, at least?”

“Yeah, we can cuddle for a while,” Bucky grinned. “I don’t need to be there until noon.”

Steve exhaled dramatically. “Fine,” he said, reeling Bucky in for a hug. “I guess that’s acceptable.”

***

“What he did was _completely_ unacceptable!”

Bucky and Steve looked at each other with surprised expressions as Foggy paced the conference room, yelling into his phone. They’d never seen the normally relaxed man so worked up before.

“He should have recused himself from the case immediately,” Foggy went on, his face getting red and splotchy in his anger. “Hell, he never should have accepted it to begin with!”

“Um, Matt?” Bucky asked. “What is Foggy yelling about?”

“He just got out of a very interesting meeting with Jess, Luke—and Jeri Hogarth,” Matt grinned.

“He should get disbarred for this!”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked. “Who’s he taking to?”

“He’s currently talking to the Administrative Judge for New York City, the office that assigns judges to court cases,” Matt explained. “Next, he’ll be contacting The Office of the Inspector General and the State Commission on Judicial Conduct.”

“What? Why?” Bucky asked, alarmed.

“Benjamin Donovan has been a very busy man,” Matt said. “After turning Hogarth loose on him, Donovan was quick to assure her that he was only passing along a message when he visited Miss Carter in jail, nothing more.”

“A message? From who?” Steve asked, his brow severely furrowed.

“A group called Insight Security,” he replied. “Ever heard of them?”

“No,” both Bucky and Steve answered.

“Neither had we,” Matt said. “Once we had the name, though, it was easy to locate. Karen found the Articles of Incorporation that were filed very recently by Mister Donovan himself, right here in New York City. Turns out that Insight Security is one person hiding behind a series of increasingly complicated LLCs, and that Donovan has been representing him for a while now. Alexander Pierce.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Steve said flatly.

“Nope,” Matt said grimly. “Jess and Luke did some more snooping around, and it turns out Donovan was legal counsel for Alexander Pierce during his severance from Hydra Publishing last year,” Matt shrugged. “Apparently he’s still representing him in his new venture.”

“Pierce,” Bucky said, in stunned disbelief. “What message was he sending to Sharon?”

“Donovan refuses to say, citing confidentiality, but honestly? That’s not even the interesting part—we’ll let Hogarth tear him apart for that. _This_ is where it gets really interesting,” Matt said. He felt the top of a sheet of paper, his fingers gliding across the raised dots of the Braille characters embossed there. “Insight Security has only been incorporated for a couple of months, but they’ve already made a rather large political donation.”

“To whom?” Steve asked.

Matt turned the paper her was reading around and slid it toward Steve. “Judge Leland Owlsley.”

“You’re kidding,” Bucky blurted.

“Owlsley?” Steve echoed, bewildered. “Isn’t that—“

“Yes,” Matt said. “The donation was made less than a week after Owlsley was assigned to your case. Needless to say, Foggy is currently getting him thrown out, and is planning on filing an official complaint with the state.”

“You think Pierce was trying to buy off the judge on our case?” Steve asked as he perused the donation form, his eyes showing his absolute shock.

“I think there’s no doubt of it,” Foggy said, finally ending his phone call and sitting at the conference table. “It wasn’t even subtle.”

“But why?” Bucky asked, distressed. “Brock can’t possibly be that important to him.”

“It could be any number of reasons,” Foggy said, “but if he’d been able to convince Owlsley to take it easy on Rumlow, that would have hurt you both, which—let’s face it—would always be his main goal. If we hadn’t caught it, Pierce could have held this over Owlsley’s head for who-knows-how-long; Leland’s career would have been ruined if it had come out that he allowed a political donation to influence a judicial decision.”

“Now, he can recuse himself from the case and return the donation, making himself look like a stand-up guy,” Matt continued with a smirk. “He should be thanking us, really.”

“So what now?” Bucky asked, his stomach tightening.

“We’ll get a new judge,” Matt assured them, “and we’ll check them out just as thoroughly. It’ll be okay.”

“I just—I can’t believe this,” Bucky said, dropping his face into his hands.

“We have an injunction against Pierce,” Steve said. “How can he do this?”

“The injunction prevents Pierce from attempting any direct contact with SHIELD Publications or you personally, Steve,” Foggy said regretfully. “Technically, he hasn’t violated that.”

“We’re looking into having it amended to include Insight Security, as well as his other corporate aliases,” Matt said. “We will also file for a separate restraining order to protect you, Bucky.”

“Do you think you can get it?” Steve asked.

“Pierce is trying to get at you, Steve, through Bucky,” Foggy nodded. “At the very least, it will let Pierce know that we know what he’s up to—and that we’re watching him.”

“Karen is at the courthouse filing everything right now,” Matt said. “Pierce will be notified as soon as it’s granted.”

“This can’t be over soon enough,” Bucky whispered.

“All you need to do is show up at the courthouse and tell the truth,” Matt said kindly. “We’ll handle everything else.”

***

“Do you think Maria would kill me if I—“

_“Yes,_ Tony, she would,” Sam said, glaring daggers at his dear friend.

“But you don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Dude,” Sam said emphatically, “she and Pepper picked out the tuxes—the style, the colors, everything. Do you _really_ want to mess with their vision?”

Tony stood quietly for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip, thinking carefully before he spoke. “No, I do not.”

“Pepper wouldn’t steer you wrong,” Steve grinned, tangling his fingers with Bucky’s as they waited for the tailors to prepare the fitting rooms with the custom tuxedos they would be wearing for the ceremony.

The wedding date was set for the second weekend in June, just over a month and a half away. As they were expecting warm temperatures, Sam and Maria—mostly Maria—had decided on an evening ceremony, so that it would be cooling down rather than heating up.

“Here we are,” the head tailor said happily, coming out to greet the group. He was a slender man, slightly shorter than Bucky, with a shock of neatly styled, bright white hair, and narrow, rectangular glasses. “I am Leonard Zelinsky, but please feel free to call me Leo.” He shook hands with Sam first, then Tony, Steve, and Bucky. “If you’ll all follow me,” he smiled, “your rooms are ready.”

He led them back to a large room with four pedestals, doors all along the outer edge leading to fitting rooms. Names were on the fitting room doors, their suits already hanging inside. Several assistants waited, digital tablets in their hands, ready to record measurements and take notes.

The tailor’s shop was one of the fanciest places Bucky had ever been. It was clearly very high-end, with dark wood paneling, overstuffed furniture in the reception area, thick carpeting, soft music, and hints of cedar, cinnamon, and coffee in the air. A well-stocked espresso and beverage bar sat at one end of the room, an attendant at the ready to provide refreshments.

“If you’ll step inside your rooms and get changed,” Leo cheerfully said, “we can get started with the fittings. Please begin with the shirts and the trousers.”

Bucky entered his fitting room—a large space with two comfortable chairs, a table, a high chest of drawers, a floor-length mirror, and a tall wardrobe rack, from which hung his new suit—and began to get undressed, smiling widely. It had been a good week, the upcoming trial notwithstanding. Becca had called, overjoyed; she had heard back from Stark Industries and had already had a phone interview. She was confident that it had gone spectacularly and was optimistic that she would move on to the next round.

He had also spoken to his mother, who was doing well. Bucky’s father, George, had given up his pouting whenever she mentioned their son, which was, in her words, a very positive development. “I even found him looking at the picture of you and Steve at the flower show,” she told Bucky. “And before you say anything, smarty-pants, _no,_ he didn’t look angry or upset; he looked…thoughtful.”

Which, okay, fair enough—Bucky had been about to say something snarky. He refused to read anything into it, though; none of it was in his control, and he currently had more than enough on his plate to worry about, thank you very much.

It only took a few minutes to get changed, the four men gathering back in the central room and standing on the pedestals. They all grinned at each other, unable to stop from cracking jokes and making faces to try and get the others to laugh.

“Thank goodness we’re done with cake tasting,” Tony quipped, adjusting the waist of his trousers. He looked at Bucky. “You lived with Nat for a year? How the hell did you stay in shape?”

“I told her to charge me for anything I ate,” Bucky laughed. “I make decent money managing the bookstore, but I’ll be paying off student loans for the rest of my life.”

The head tailor waited patiently for the four men to settle, smiling before getting down to business. “Now, gentlemen, we have chosen a fresco wool for you to wear, a comfortable fabric for summer; the high-twisted wool has an open, airy weave, which allows it to be light and breathable but still quite durable. Despite being lightweight, it is crisp and elegant.”

Leo walked around, gathering and pinning, making adjustments and marking for darts while his assistants measured and recorded, taking pictures as they worked. “Three of you in the wedding party will be wearing a gorgeous light gray that compliments a wide variety of skin tones,” he continued to speak, “with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie in a color to complement the dresses of the bridal party.”

He then stood and turned to Bucky. “You, sir, will be in a lovely shade of steel blue that I can see matches your eyes. Excellent choice,” he smiled teasingly at Steve, causing Bucky to blush fiercely. “You will also be wearing a white shirt, and the tie chosen for you will be light gray, to match Mister Rogers’ suit.”

“Awww,” Sam and Tony laughed, and Steve grinned so hard that his eyes crinkled shut.

“Shaddup,” Bucky mumbled good-naturedly, looking down at his feet and fidgeting as he fought the smile stretching across his heated cheeks. Truthfully, he couldn’t help but be pleased; even though he wasn’t a member of the wedding party, Sam and Maria were going out of their way to include Bucky in their celebration.

They discussed shoes next. “Midnight blue Chuck Taylors, all around,” Sam grinned.

Leo knelt to roll the cuff of Sam’s pants. “There will be a slight taper, and a one-quarter break,” he said, adjusting the length. His assistants quickly made notes and pinned accordingly. Once everyone’s pants were to his approval, Leo looked to his assistants. “Bring out the jackets, please.”

The next hour involved getting all the measurements, and poking fun at Steve when Leo squawked at how much the jacket would have to be altered in to get the shoulder-width-to-waist-ratio correct.

“This is why none of his t-shirts fit properly,” Sam joked.

“Hey,” Bucky barked out a laugh. “No making fun of his smedium shirts. I love those.”

“That’s why I wear ‘em,” Steve grinned, winking at his boyfriend.

***

“Everyone is here, so I’m locking the doors,” Bucky called out, flipping the lock on the bookstore’s front entrance.

He’d arrived at work about fifteen minutes before noon, happy to see several of his employees already there, ready to work. He went immediately to the office and printed out the inventory pages, which listed every book that should currently be in the store, separated by subject, and then alphabetized by author and title, and a separate list of all the merchandise that should be on hand.

The crew that had worked on Saturday had done a good job cleaning up the store. Nick had assigned everyone an area to “zone”—that is, to check every book on the shelves with a bar code reader and make sure they were in their proper area. There was already a small stack of about a dozen books that weren’t showing up in their inventory sitting in the office, but Bucky could take care of those later.

He handed out assignments and bar code readers to everyone and set them loose. Counting every book, every periodical, every single piece of merchandise in the store was tiring, tedious, and time-consuming; it was also, however, necessary for tax purposes, so Bucky was determined to do the best and most thorough job he could.

This was the first time since Bucky had begun working at the bookstore that Nick was not going to be on-hand for the yearly event; his knee made it too difficult to move around for long periods, and the last thing Bucky wanted was for him to have to worry about the state of the store.

As the hours passed, Bucky called for pizza to be delivered. There were already large bottles of water in the break room refrigerator, as well as soda for those who wanted it, and Bucky made sure everyone took breaks to refuel and hydrate. Pete took requests for music to be played over the store’s PA system, and everyone relaxed for a few well-deserved minutes before getting back to work.

Bucky looked around the room, seeing his co-workers—his friends, really—smiling and laughing, teasing each other and laughing at themselves, and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was a good place, and he worked with good people.

“Hey Buckito,” Pete said, dropping into the seat next to him after grabbing another piece of pizza, “what is _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Brickhouse doing without you today?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “I told you that SHIELD was invited to hold a panel at New York Comic Con, right?” When Pete nodded, Bucky continued. “He’s working on the special zero issue that they’re doing as a giveaway. I think he and Sam are looking over some legal stuff today, too.”

When Steve had dropped Bucky off at the bookstore that morning, leaving him with one or two soft, lingering kisses, he had mentioned heading over to Sam’s to look at some merchandising contracts they were considering. Steve never left their home without the Captain America shield keychain that Bucky had bought for him months earlier at a fall harvest festival, and multiple conversations with Sam and Peggy had convinced him that they should look into creating their own line.

So, after listening to Sam complain good-naturedly about wedding preparations and Steve offering terrible advise on how to deal with it, they pulled out the legal paperwork and began to go over it. They had a meeting scheduled for the next day with the group they were favoring, but Sam wanted to show Steve some changes he was hoping to make.

Most of it was more than Steve could follow—fixed-price-per-unit agreements, licensing fees and sales percentages, gross and net revenue, blah blah blah—but Sam was in his element, happily pointing out areas where SHIELD could make a lot of profit for a guaranteed length of time.

“If we can get them to agree to a five-year-exclusive deal, with an option to extend, in exchange for another three percent of the gross,” Sam grinned, “we could be looking at an additional seven- to ten-million over the life of the contract—and that’s a conservative estimate based on the merchandise they have planned. It could be more if it proves to be popular.”

“But we’ll keep final approval rights over all items?” Steve asked, flipping through several pages.

“Yeah, that’s right here…” Sam replied, turning to the licensing pages and pointing to a very long-winded legalese paragraph. “SHIELD maintains all rights to approve or reject merchandise if we don’t feel it’s up to our standard.”

“Good,” Steve nodded. “If our characters and art are going to be out there, I want it to look good and be high quality.”

“Absolutely,” Sam nodded. “You’ll probably need to hire someone to handle the majority of this, you know.”

“I know,” Steve sighed with a grin. “We should probably create an actual HR department and put Darcy in charge of it. She’s been dealing with most of the new-hire paperwork since she got here, anyway.”

“Well, now that I’m your full-time corporate legal counsel,” Sam laughed, “I wholeheartedly agree with that decision. We’ll talk to Peggy about it this week.”

They talked for a while longer and then shared an early dinner with Maria. They spoke a little about the upcoming trial and Bucky’s decision to testify in court; Maria assured Steve that Bucky had everyone on his side and that they would be in court to support him.

After that, Steve drove home to work on the zero issue of _The Winter Soldier._ It was coming along well, better than Steve had hoped, actually, and he was confident that they would have it finished well before NYCC.

He stood and stretched after finishing the ink outlines on a panel, surprised to see when he looked at the time that it was already after ten o’clock. Deciding that he’d done enough for the day, he cleaned up his desk and his supplies, putting everything back in its proper spot before turning off the light and walking across the hall to their bedroom. Once he was ready for bed, he called Bucky.

“Hey, Stevie,” the younger man said, and Steve could hear the fatigue in his voice.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Steve responded. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, for the most part,” Bucky sighed. “We’re missing a couple dozen books from one publisher, so I think I must have forgotten to enter in a return shipment, which I should have a report for, but _ugh,”_ he said. “Otherwise we’re doing pretty good; probably two-thirds done, maybe more. Still a ways to go before we’re finished, though.”

“Aww,” Steve pouted. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah, I ordered in pizza for everyone, and Mora brought in a big fruit and veggie tray, so I’m nibbling on that.”

“That’s my good boy,” Steve smiled.

“Don’t you start that with me, Steven. I still have hours of work to do here.”

The blond chuckled. “Sorry, baby doll. I’m just lying here in bed, all alone, missing you—“

“Oh, my _god,_ fuck off.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

“How about you?” Bucky asked. “Did you get some work done today?”

“Lots, actually,” Steve answered. “Sam and I went over a contract we’re having a meeting about tomorrow and I did some inking, too. Very productive.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

Steve lay flat on his back and stared at the ceiling. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come get you when you’re done?”

“I’m sure, Stevie,” Bucky said. “I’m not going to drag you out of bed at three in the morning to come get me. I’ll call an Uber.”

“If you’re sure—“

“I’m sure.”

“If there’s any problem at all, _please_ call me.”

“I will, Stevie, I promise.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you when you get home, baby.”

“I’ll try not to wake you up.”

“Please, wake me up.”

_“Steve—“_

“Just so I can give you goodnight kisses.”

Bucky huffed a laugh on the other end of the call. “Okay, big guy, I will wake you up for kisses, but then we’re both going right to sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve grinned. “I’ll see you soon.”

***

Steve woke as Bucky carefully slid under the sheets and lay down next to him. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured raspily, reaching clumsily for his boyfriend. A quick glance at the bedside clock showed it to be approaching five a.m. “C’mere.”

Without a word, Bucky curled into Steve’s side, his limbs heavy with fatigue. Steve wrapped him up, cuddling him close, and kissed his forehead before tucking him under his chin. “Love you, baby. G’night.”

Bucky mumbled in return, already mostly asleep, and Steve followed soon after.

It seemed like only a few minutes later that Steve’s alarm was going off and it was time for him to get up. Bucky was still draped over his chest, neither of them having moved much at all since the brunet crawled into bed just over two hours earlier, and Steve was loathe to disturb him. So he rolled, slowly and carefully, depositing Bucky onto his side as he slipped out from under him.

A sniffle, a disgruntled snort, and a tiny whimper later, Bucky had curled up around Steve’s pillow and settled into a peaceful slumber again.

The curtains kept the room dark enough that Steve needed to feel his way around the end of the bed on his way to the bathroom. He showered and dressed as quietly as possible, not turning on any lights in the bedroom. He shut the door behind him as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen.

Rather than brew a whole pot of coffee, Steve only made enough to fill his cup and his travel mug. He had a simple breakfast of toast, some fruit, and scrambled eggs before leaving for the office, expecting a full day of legal meetings.

Before he left, though, he tiptoed back into their room to brush his teeth, give his hair a final combing, tuck the comforter around Bucky’s shoulders and kiss him softly on the cheek before whispering, “I’ll see you tonight, angel face. I love you.”

Bucky slept through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pretty fluffy chapter, for the most part; I'm trying to keep several subplots moving along. Hopefully I haven't lost or confused anyone yet. :)
> 
> As a side note, California is on fire again. We are very smoky, but not in danger yet. Fingers crossed for those under evacuation orders.
> 
> I hope to see you all soon with another chapter, and I promise to get on those comments and questions that I've noticed are starting to stack up. :)
> 
> <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Family drama and surprises are only the beginning! Check back in next week! (*3*)
> 
> I'm so happy to be back and writing again, y'all have no idea. Like I said before, I have this story about two-thirds finished. Not all of the chapters are in order, so I'm still working to fill in bridge chapters, etc. I promise I will not leave you hanging too long between updates.
> 
> I may let Google off the hook for this story and claim all errors for myself. We'll see. XD
> 
> <3


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